Worlds May Fall
by Marina Black1
Summary: A dangerous new killer has arrived in town. Friendships will be tested, lives will be irreparably changed, and families will be forged from the wreckage. Lydia Martin finds herself drawn not only to Peter Hale but the orphaned infant he's taken in after she finds herself in the middle of the investigation. Violence and danger abound. *RATED M FOR A REASON* PYDIA. AU after S4 Finale
1. Chapter 1

Lydia marched toward the humming drone of a death knell that would inevitably lead her to a violent, bloody scene. The noise was undetectable to the rest of the world but for a banshee, it pounded through and disoriented her. Weaving her way through the trees, the cacophony grew louder until her head swam with it. Lydia's vision didn't clear again until she was standing in the middle of the woods, her breath coming in ragged spurts as she stared down at the body of a woman not much older than Lydia herself. The woman's eyes were clouded and dead but remained wide, her body still contorted with fear. There was no doubt that this poor soul had died screaming.

The morning sunshine sparkling over dewy leaves and grasses was a stark contrast to the gory scene that stretched in front of Lydia. The victim had been slashed and ripped apart by claws, the entire lower half of her body was a congealed mess of torn flesh. What bothered Lydia the most was not the scene itself but that this wasn't even the most gruesome one she'd happened upon lately. So-called "animal attacks" were on the rise again. Scott and Stiles were trying to figure out who was doing it…but Lydia was far more interested in the why. The victims had been mostly young women—all were between the ages of eighteen and thirty. The first victim who'd turned up slashed had been a buxom blonde; the second was also blonde but she'd been very tall and athletic. The third woman they found was an Asian girl passing through town on her way to visit family in Sacramento. She died on the same night as a woman who had shaved her head entirely. The woman at Lydia's feet had dark hair and was rounder than the rest. The women who died were from all over the country and the world, they shared no common acquaintances, and all looked completely different. The pattern seemed random and varied, which was absolutely terrifying.

A shrieking cry dragged Lydia's attention away. The sound dissipated almost as quickly as it had come but it made her realize that she was not alone. The man who stood over her should have startled her but Lydia was not afraid. Peter Hale was many things but a killer of defenseless women was not one of them; of that, Lydia was sure. He looked profoundly disturbed as he reached down, tugging Lydia away from the corpse. The sound that had pulled her focus seemed to be coming from the woods and she took off with no regard for whether Peter followed her or not. She knew he would… "Why are you here?" Lydia asked nonchalantly.

"I smelled blood," Peter responded coolly. He stayed at Lydia's side and dogged her every step. "You do realize that this psycho is killing young women and you are out here making yourself a walking target!?" Lydia Martin infuriated Peter Hale. She needlessly put herself in danger time and time again; if there was trouble, she would find a way into the center of it. There was no way he was going to allow her to stay out here all alone. He could withstand her glaring daggers at him if it meant her safety. A hundred yards ahead there was a car with the driver's side door hanging wide open. Peter could tell from here that it had belonged to the dead woman…but the scent that hit him next made it feel he'd been stabbed in the chest. With a soft curse, Peter broke into a dead run.

Lydia gasped softly at the suddenness of his movement. She picked up her pace, jogging after him. She stayed back as Peter ripped open the back door and leaned inside."Peter, that's evidence. Sheriff Stilinki said never to touch anything-" Her heart suddenly dropped into her stomach as Peter pulled a tiny, mewling baby out of the abandoned vehicle. Obviously, the woman in the woods had recently given birth. Lydia had never seen a baby so small up close. Her eyes filled with tears as Peter cradled the angry infant in his arms. This monster had to be stopped once and for all. Lydia's phone was instantly in her hand, "I need to call the police now…"

Peter nodded in agreement but his focus was almost solely on the child in his arms. Thankfully the baby had been protected from the elements by the car. It surprised Peter that the monster who killed the mother had not laid a single hand on the child. The cause of the child's distress was discomfort from being stuck in a car without anyone to care for him. Peter was going to rectify that immediately. "Grab the bag from the car," He called to Lydia. "You don't need werewolf senses to know this kid needs a diaper change and something to eat."

The police were on their way, along with Scott and Stiles. Lydia's heart twisted up in her chest as he laid a blanket on the back of the car and pulled supplies from the bag. "Do you know how to do that?" Lydia asked, incredulously. It wasn't that Peter wasn't paternal; Lydia could easily picture him as a father… but she also had a hard time believing that he would willingly volunteer for diaper duty.

Peter wordlessly went about changing the soiled diaper and ignored her question. Of course he knew how to change a diaper! He had always been there to change Cora and Derek's diapers while Talia was out performing her duties as the pack alpha. He didn't mind the time spent with his niece and nephew at all; it was the lack of power that he lamented. Gazing up at Lydia, he caught her worried gaze, "Is there any powder or diaper rash cream in there?" The poor baby had been sitting in this diaper the entire night. Lydia dug through the bag until she came up with a tube. Once the baby had a clean diaper and onesie the little boy began to calm.

Lydia watched the child with a fascination that she could hardly comprehend. A rush of protective hormones surged through her the moment Peter slid that baby into her arms. Lydia knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, she'd never let _anyone_ hurt him. The sirens of police cars and an ambulance dragged Peter's attention away but Lydia saw nothing but the baby. Peter made up a bottle and the child fed hungrily, happy as a clam now that his most basic needs were being taken care of.

Sheriff Stilinksi stepped out of the car, his hand resting on his gun the moment he caught sight of Peter Hale."What's he doing here?" The sheriff groused, moving toward them slowly. He was looking for any excuse to bring Peter in and charge him with these heinous crimes. Scott and Stiles were half a minute behind, clearly wondering why Lydia and Peter were standing in the woods with a baby.

"Peter's with me," Lydia replied, without explanation. Every one of them—especially Peter—seemed surprised by her answer but no one dared speak. She forged ahead, "The mother's body is a little ways from here. Same claw marks as the others." When the baby finished his bottle, Lydia slipped him over her shoulder and patted his back until he let out a loud burp. Now that he was clean and fed, his tiny head drooped into the crook of Lydia's neck and he was asleep there within seconds.

Watching Lydia and the infant affected Peter somehow. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the gorgeous woman and the infant that she had bonded with so quickly. There was something primal that rose up in him and he stayed glued to Lydia's side. This woman and child needed someone to look after them and he would be damned if anyone took that position but him. Unfortunately there were external influences that threatened the balance. Peter's cobalt eyes locked onto Sheriff Stilinki's as he folded his arms. "Let's just get what you want to say out of the way…you think that I had something to do with these crimes."

"Bingo," Stiles piped up. "You're a werewolf, you're a jerk, and you're at the scene of the crime. It makes perfect sense to me!" But when Stiles peered over at Scott for confirmation, the true alpha's expression gave him pause. "What is it, Scott?"

Sniffing the air several times, Scott shook his head. "I don't know…it's familiar but I can't quite place it."

"Gardenia and lilac," Peter offered. "I've smelled the same combination at each scene." Peter stepped closer and bent as if to tell Scott a secret. "But there's something else. Something that's different about this one…" Derek had not helped Scott cultivate his werewolf senses the way that Peter could have. It was shame really…but Peter took this as an excellent opportunity to teach Scott something. "Focus on the scent and tell us what you feel. Try and get a sense of the emotion behind the scent…"

"You _were_ at all the scenes!" The sheriff was already reaching for his handcuffs when Scott stepped between them. "Wait…" Scott pressed and sniffed at the air, "Peter's right." All eyes remained on Scott as he paced away from the car. "The scent is the same but there's something more I'm getting. It's female…"

"What does that mean?" Stiles moved immediately to Scott's side. "We already know the victims are girls. That's the only consistent link between them…"

"No, I mean the killer," Scott's eyes widened in shock. "It's a woman."

Chaos erupted. Sheriff Stilinski was arguing that Peter could be leading Scott to the wrong conclusion, Scott was—shockingly—defending Peter, and Stiles was trying to get a peek at the body while everyone was distracted. Peter stood back, rolling his eyes in annoyance. After several minutes, Lydia let out an angry cry, "Can't you see that I have a sleeping baby here!?" She chastised. "This little guy has been through enough today. The last thing he needs is to listen to all of your petty arguing during his nap." Lydia glared between Peter and the Sheriff for a moment before turning to Scott. "I want to get the baby checked out at the hospital. Is your mom working?"

Scott nodded immediately, "Yeah, she's got the double shift in the ED. I'll let her know you're on your way."

Peter earned himself a dark glare from Stiles when he pressed his hand against the small of Lydia's back. "I'll grab the carseat and meet you at the Prius." Stiles was clearly upset but Lydia gave Peter a soft smile…and that was all Peter cared about. Ignoring Sheriff Stilinski's chatter that the car seat could still be evidence, Peter plucked it from the car. "I'll see to it personally that it gets returned but for the moment, my obligation is getting this child to the hospital safely." Without another word, Peter stormed toward the car where Lydia was waiting. It took some maneuvering to get the car seat strapped in safely but finally, they were ready to go. He noticed the reluctance in Lydia to let go of the child for even a moment. "I can drive if you want to sit in the back with him," Peter offered.

Relief flooded through Lydia immediately and she nodded. Without hesitation, she handed over the keys and made sure the baby was strapped in securely. He didn't even stir when Peter started the car and headed toward Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. She was eternally grateful that he didn't speed but took it slow, making sure the baby didn't get jostled on the drive. "He's so small…" Lydia murmured almost inaudibly yet she knew Peter could hear her.

"He's a fighter," Peter soothed. "Thankfully he won't remember any of this." His expression was pensive as he eased into a parking spot near the front. There was something about this child…something he was keeping from Lydia until he could be sure. He remained silent as they walked into the ED, immediately greeted by Melissa McCall. It was clear she was still uncomfortable around him…and for some reason that made him smile.

Lydia pretended not to feel the tension as she tightened her hand around the handle of the carseat. "This little guy was in the car when his mother was killed. We're not sure how long he was there but it could very well have been all night. We changed him and he ate well, he took the whole bottle, and then fell asleep." Her heart pounded with fear, "Do you think he'll be alright?"

Melissa gave Lydia a tender smile, "I called pediatrics already and they're on their way down. Bring him into exam room two. I put a crib in there…and then the two of you can leave."

Peter immediately rested a hand on Lydia's shoulder to steady her. "I am not leaving!" Lydia balked, "This baby has been through enough, he needs a familiar face when he wakes up." Peter nodded in agreement, "I am also staying."

Melissa gazed between them. She opened her mouth as if poised to say something before she shook her head, "Fine, you can stay with him for now. I need to go check in on a couple of patients but the doctor will be in shortly." Casting one last glance in their direction, Melissa hurried down the hall.

Stepping into the cold hospital room, Lydia carefully slipped the baby from his car seat again. He slept so peacefully in her arms and that plastic incubator-type crib seemed cruel. The child's even heartbeat and soft sighs during sleep were comforting. Lydia watched Peter as he paced the room and gazed out the window into the waning morning sunshine. Storms were predicted to roll through tonight, giving way to much cooler weather…Peter was grateful that they had held off for the sake of the baby.

When the doctor came in, Lydia was very reluctant to hand the child over. Peter moved to her side, watching earnestly as the man listened to the child's heart and lungs, took his blood pressure and oxygen saturation level, and tested his reflexes. The stimulation woke the child up and he shrieked in anger. Lydia clutched at her chest at the child's plaintive screams and instinctively snuggled closer to Peter. He wrapped an arm around her without question. After a long moment, Peter let out an exasperated scoff, "Well, is he alright or not?"

The doctor looked up, nodding. When he pressed the call bell, Melissa popped her head into the room. "He's a little bit dehydrated. I want you to make sure that you give him a little bit of extra formula with his next feeding. As for the diaper rash, keep putting the zinc oxide cream on and call me if it doesn't get better in a day or two." When he turned around, Melissa was staring at him incredulously.

"They are not the parents," Melissa informed him, curtly. "Sheriff Stilinksi said the child's name is Owen Harris. His mother was Roberta Harris but she's deceased. There's no father listed on the birth certificate." She licked her lips, "I had to call social services but they're a little backed up at the moment. They don't have a placement for him yet." She sighed, "We'll have to admit him until they can take the child into custody…"

Lydia stepped forward, "I don't want him all alone here…" Or in the custody of strangers who couldn't possibly care for him as deeply as she did. "If they need someone to care for Owen, I'll do it!" She argued.

"Lydia, they aren't going to grant temporary custody to an eighteen year old girl," Melissa replied matter-of-factly. "You have school."

"They may not consider Lydia but they will grant it to me…" Peter replied without fanfare. "Think of me what you wish but I have no known criminal record. I'm a doting uncle. I own my own home and now that I have my money back, I'm a very wealthy man." Melissa gave him an incredulous look but he simply laughed. "I think you'll have a hard time finding a better choice on such short notice…" His lawyer could draw up papers for temporary guardianship with a few short strokes on his keyboard and get it implemented within the hour, thanks to a few well placed friends in high places. "I'll petition the state immediately."

Melissa shifted uncomfortably. Roberta Harris was twenty years old, she had no living relatives, no close friends, and no one to claim her orphaned child. Still, Melissa wasn't sure that Peter Hale was the right choice. "I'll send the hospital social worker by…" She folded her arms, "Lydia, can I speak to you outside for a moment?"

Lydia could tell by the worried look on Melissa's face that she was in for a lecture. Reluctantly, she handed Owen over to Peter and smoothed her rumpled outfit. As soon as Lydia stepped outside the room, the lecture promptly began—just as she had predicted. "Are you out of your mind?" Melissa pressed, "Do I need to remind you that man tried to kill you, Stiles and Scott on more than one occasion? He is bad news, Lydia!" She warned. "You have your studies and your friends. Your whole life is ahead of you, don't get mixed up with Peter and this baby. I'm not your mother but I've watched you grow up. Lydia, I don't want to see you get hurt."

A blank expression remained on Lydia's face. "You're right…my _actual_ mother would tell you that I could've graduated high school two years ago but I chose to stay in class with my friends. With all my AP credits I can skip my freshman year of college altogether." Lydia's brilliance was unparalleled by anyone at that school—student or faculty. "She'd also tell you that I'm not like Scott and Stiles." Lydia leaned in closer, "I'm a banshee. I'm drawn to the dead wherever I go. I wake up at crimes scenes and I don't remember how I got there…" She sighed, "I may not have claws and fangs but I'm _never_ going to live a normal life." Lydia smiled sadly at Melissa, "Peter can't pull the wool over my eyes. I'm not falling into his web and I certainly don't trust him any further than I can throw him…but this? This is genuine." Stepping back, Lydia tilted her head toward the door. "Look…"

Despite her reservations, Melissa did as Lydia asked. Peter was leaning against the counter with Owen snuggled into his chest. Owen was still whimpering, unhappy at being disturbed from his nap, but Peter's gentle touch and soft soothing voice were quickly calming the babe. Melissa clenched her jaw. "Temporary guardianship can last up to sixty days but if anyone close to Roberta or the father of that baby comes calling or if something happens, it can be revoked in an instant." She sighed, "Just please be careful, Lydia, I don't want to see you get hurt…"

"I appreciate your concern but I can handle Peter." Those were words that Lydia Martin would come to lament many times but in this moment, everything seemed to be falling into place. Melissa was called away and Lydia stepped back into the room. "Melissa is going to help." Moving back to Peter's side, she stroked Owen's tender cheek. "He needs a stable environment right now more than ever…"

Peter looked up at Lydia, "I'm surprised to hear it." He peered over at her, sizing her up. Lydia reached for the child immediately and Peter handed Owen over without argument. He took the opportunity to text his lawyer to get the paperwork started. After a long moment, he plopped down in a chair near the window. "She's right, you know."

Lydia raised an eyebrow. "I'm aware of that, Peter. And as you heard, I'm not afraid of you."

"You should be," Peter chuckled darkly. "I'm the big bad wolf, sweetheart."

Chortling softly, Lydia snuggled Owen tighter. "I think I'll take my chances. I feel connected to this child somehow." It was instantaneous, like a flash of lightning that slammed through her. "I-I can't explain it." When she looked into Peter's face, she knew he felt the same way she did. She licked her lips, "I will be around to help you but that doesn't make us allies and it doesn't make us friends." She narrowed her eyes. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Message received loud and clear." Peter grinned predatorily. "For now, be on your best behavior. Melissa and the social worker are headed our way." Lydia immediately straightened herself up. Owen had fallen back asleep with his small head resting against her chest. By the time the social worker in the room, Peter's lawyer had already faxed the paperwork to the nurse's station. It was amazing what a bit of cash could accomplish when it came to lawyers.

Two hours later, Peter and Lydia walked out of the hospital with the baby. There was no contest to Peter's temporary guardianship since Roberta Harris had no one. Social services would be out to make a surprise home visit within the next seventy-two hours and Melissa made it very clear that Scott and Stiles would be checking in on them as well. Lydia slid into the back of the Prius again as Peter headed toward the house he'd bought in the woods.

Coasting along the familiar streets, Lydia looked up every so often. Darkness descended over Beacon Hills as they turned off the road onto a dirt path. Peter slowed as they circumvented a tree that had to be millennia old and eased up a gravel driveway. The massive brick house loomed ahead of them, wrapped in regal ivy. Owen began to stir as they eased into the garage. "Someone's hungry," Lydia remarked, though she wasn't sure exactly how she knew.

Peter carried the carseat into the house. "There's still plenty of formula in the can but I'm going to run out to pick up some things. Will you be alright here alone for a bit?"

Lydia was already making herself at home as she nodded. She hummed softly to the baby as she set about washing the bottle and then mixing up the formula. Owen kicked his tiny legs while he gnawed on his fist. Lifting Owen from his carseat, she padded into the living room. Later on she'd admire the pristine kitchen with its dark cherry cabinets, onyx granite countertops, and the little breakfast nook that overlooked a small vegetable garden that was well tended. She'd notice the paintings of majestic wolves lining the hallway to the den. Peter lingered in the doorway a moment to make sure she didn't need anything before he slipped away.

Lydia eased herself down on the buttery leather sofa, cradling the child in her arms. Owen ate hungrily until he was satisfied once more. When he finished, Lydia decided it was time to give the baby a bath. She collected a clean towel and wash cloth, she padded into the kitchen. There was a small bottle of Johnson's baby shampoo in the bag and Lydia got everything set up. Letting the warm water run, she laughed as the baby let out a little howl of displeasure at first…but soon after, he was languid under the warmth of the water. When Peter returned, she was just bundling the baby up in the towel, freshly washed and happily cooing against her shoulder.

"Someone's happy, I take it…" And he didn't just mean Owen. Lydia was radiant. There was something in her face that he'd never seen before and he reveled in it. Passing Lydia another clean onesie from the bag, he made several trips from the car. The all-night drugstore had everything they could possibly need and Peter bought it all: diapers, wipes, more diaper cream, onesies, baby socks, a thermometer, a baby monitor, formula, bottles, and one of each baby toy he could find. Peter had even gone so far as to buy the sensitive baby laundry detergent the woman recommended, just in case. "I'll have to call up the baby store tomorrow and have them deliver everything for the nursery. Tonight, I believe I have the perfect place for him."

Lydia followed Peter up the grand staircase to the master bedroom. Pulling out a large drawer from the chest, he set down several blankets to pad the drawer. "Is that really going to work?" She asked, eyes widening slightly. Peter eased the child from her arms, settling the baby down. Within moments, Owen's eyes were drooping and he found his tiny thumb to suck. "I suppose it'll be alright for one night…" Peter would only be a few paces away in case the baby needed something at night. The room was well lit and clean, obviously Peter took pride in his home.

When they slipped from the room, Peter turned to Lydia again, "Are you staying…or going…"

There was a moment of hesitation as Lydia looked around. Peter had everything under control. He'd purchased things she wouldn't even have thought of. "If I stay, I think it'll cause a stir…"

"That it will," Peter replied, holding his position leaning in the doorway.

"But I don't think I can go knowing that he could need me during the night…" Lydia whispered. She took a shaky breath, weighing the options carefully. "It's his first night home," She declared finally, "I'm staying."

Peter nodded, "I'll show you to the guest room." It hadn't been used yet but the room was painted a soft cream. A large, comfortable looking bed was made up with a thick down comforter wrapped in a duvet just a few shades darker than the walls. The sheets were fresh, crisp cotton that would feel wonderful against her smooth skin. "The bathroom is across the hall. I'll be sleeping in the same room as Owen, for tonight. If you need anything, help yourself."

She'd gotten a bite to eat at the hospital and now that Owen was in bed, all she wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. Peter headed back downstairs to figure out the baby monitor and to put away some supplies. Lydia checked on Owen one more time, bending to kiss his tiny head as she lingered. Since she didn't bring any pajamas, she grabbed a pair of boxers and a shirt from another drawer. After washing up in the bathroom, Lydia changed and slipped back into the guest room. Normally, she'd never be caught dead sleeping in Peter Hale's house…let alone with the bedroom door wide open…but Owen could need her during the night and she certainly wasn't going to chance not being there if he needed her. Lydia crawled into bed and flicked off the light a few minutes later.

Peter waited until Lydia was all tucked into bed and her breathing was even before heading back upstairs. Everything that had happened today was…surreal. He'd walked into the woods this morning because he'd smelled Lydia Martin and blood. His pulse raced with fear and he had to make sure she was okay. He'd ended his night with a tiny child and Lydia Martin sleeping in his bed. Well, one of his beds… as he paused in her doorway, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. This house was too eerily quiet until she arrived and he didn't want to think about what it would be like when she left again.

Stepping into the bedroom, Peter peeked at Owen where he slept in his drawer. The child was passed out, smiling in his sleep. Kneeling over him, Peter stroked the child's baby-soft blonde hair, almost too white to be noticeable. Stroking the child's cheek, Owen's tiny eyes opened for a moment…and that's when Peter knew. The soft yellow glow lasted only a moment before the infant let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes once more. Owen Harris was a born werewolf…and now Peter had the proof he needed. Smiling to himself, he climbed into bed. There would be more questions about Owen's father tomorrow but for right now, the world was at peace.

* * *

><p><strong>I've heard you guys. Thank you SO much for taking the time to read my "Moments" Oneshot collection featuring Pydia. I've gotten so many requests for a full-length Pydia fic and this idea struck hard so I decided to run with it. I'll continue so long as I get reviews! You are in control! Let me know!<strong>

**HUGE shoutout to my amazing Beta JustVisiting80 so is the BEST ever. She is an amazing writer and friend. Check her out!**

**P.S. I am learning how to Twitter. Follow me and you can encourage me to write, help give me ideas, and get down and dirty in the creative process! MarinaBlack99 Twitter it up! I adore you all!**

**-Marina**


	2. Chapter 2

A cold sweat had broken out over her skin, leaving her clammy and shivering. In this dream she had come home after a late night at work with a bag full of takeout. Resting her stethoscope on the dashboard, she made sure to lock her car before she stepped out of the beat up sedan. Something didn't quite feel right as she unlocked the front door and slipped inside. While she dumped Chinese food onto a plate, a shadow crept across her back—

The piercing scream of a hungry child wrenched Lydia out of her garish nightmare. Though she was half-awake, she threw off the comforter and hurried to Owen's side. At least, she would have if she hadn't barreled into Peter on the way. The sudden sharpness of the contact made her gasp and she reached for him. Peter's arms grabbed her and held her tightly, keeping both of them from pitching over. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his back, her nails biting gently into his bare shoulders as she fought to remain upright. In the haze of her sleepiness, her body reacted primally to his. Heat swirled and pooled in the core of her before she could tamp it down. If not for Owen's plaintive cries, Lydia wasn't sure that she could have stepped back…

Peter could hardly breathe at how wicked Lydia Martin felt pressed against him. He was forced to shift slightly so she wouldn't feel the evidence of his arousal for her. She was rumpled and flushed from sleep yet so perfectly beautiful that his chest ached with it. Peter was grateful that she found the strength to pull away because he wasn't sure that he had the stomach for it. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he swallowed hard, "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who knocked into you," Lydia's voice was hoarse with sleep. She was grateful it was dark in the room and he couldn't see how flushed she was. Gingerly, she lifted Owen from his makeshift crib, kissing his cherubic cheek as she did so. Peter's alarm clock blearily informed her that it was shortly after four in the morning. The waning moonlight would soon give away to hazy dawn sunshine.

Peter needed a moment to rein in his baser instincts. "I'm going to run downstairs and make up a bottle." He may as well have fled. Being this close to Lydia and knowing that he couldn't touch her was the worst kind of torment. He was sure that he must have imagined the scent of arousal that filled the air. If he really was hallucinating, it was better for all of them if he stepped away for a moment.

Lydia changed Owen's diaper with a heavy sigh. How could one little person poop _so much_? She had to change his outfit again and realized this was the last one that was clean. Making a mental note to do laundry tomorrow, Lydia also knew Owen was going to need some warmer clothing. A chill had crept over the house during the night and Lydia found herself shivering. Now that his diaper was clean and his clothes changed, Lydia swaddled him in a blanket and cradled him close. She sat on the edge of Peter's bed, immediately comforted by the warm spot where Peter had recently been sleeping. Without thinking, she slipped beneath the covers and tugged them over her legs. "That's better…" She murmured aloud, rubbing Owen's back gently.

When Peter returned a few minutes later, he felt his chest tighten at the sight of Lydia snuggled in bed with the babe. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Fatherhood was not something Peter was necessarily used to or prepared for. Talia had stolen the memory of Malia's birth and Peter had not been privy to her life growing up. Guilt gnawed at him every time he thought about Malia; he could only fathom what she must have suffered. Her life would've been so different had he only known of her existence. Temporary guardian or not, Peter already vowed that he'd never let Owen suffer the same fate. The moment Lydia shifted, Peter pressed a hand to her shoulder, "Stay. It's alright." Peter carefully arranged a pillow so Owen wouldn't put too much strain on Lydia's shoulders. As soon as she offered the baby his bottle, he latched on hungrily. Peter caught the yawn she stifled and a frown marred his features, "I could have managed on my own, Lydia."

"That wouldn't be fair," Lydia replied matter-of-factly. Owen was happy as could be, unperturbed by the dreadfully early hour. Peter laid down on the other side of the bed, his legs crossed at the ankle. The scene was oddly domestic, her feeding the baby while he kept her company…she had to brush those thoughts aside for the moment. "There's going to be another murder…"

Peter raised an eyebrow at her. "Where?"

Shaking her head, Lydia let out a heavy breath. "I'm not sure. I was in a car and there was a bag of Chinese takeout. I couldn't see her face but there was something familiar about her. I know that she was coming home from work. At first everything seemed normal but when she stepped into the kitchen there was a shadow and—" Lydia looked up suddenly, "What are you doing?"

"Lydia, Melissa McCall works the night shift." Peter was already out of bed with his cell phone in hand.

Lydia held Owen a bit tighter, "My phone is in the guest room. Call Stiles, he'll get the Sheriff out of bed." Her heart kicked up as Peter dashed into the other room and came back with her phone. Stiles would pick up immediately if he saw it was her.

Except it wasn't Stiles who picked up the phone. Peter's face darkened dangerously, "Malia, get your boyfriend on the phone _now_. I'd like to speak with him before I kill him." Anger burned in his gut at the thought of his daughter sleeping with the Sheriff's son. Dragging a hand over his face, he waited while Malia dragged Stiles from the bed and flipped him onto the floor. Moments later, Stiles' sleepy voice answered. "Lydia has had another vision of a murder and I am afraid that it might be Melissa McCall." Peter let out a low growl, "After you make sure that Scott's mother is safe, I think it's time we sat down to discuss your relationship with my daughter."

"Peter!" Lydia chastised. Owen was fussing at the tension in the room despite the fact that Lydia was gently rubbing his back. She frowned, "Was that entirely necessary?"

"Is it entirely necessary that hyperactive weasel defiles my daughter!?" Peter snarled. "Malia's not like other girls. She doesn't understand the ways of the world. I don't like it, Lydia!"

"Malia is stronger than you think," Lydia stood carefully, rocking Owen gently to soothe him. "I think if you saw them together you would understand. Stiles isn't pressuring her, Peter…if anything, it's the other way around."

Peter gritted his teeth, "Is that meant to make me feel better, Lydia? My daughter is interested in that wimpy human! When she chooses a mate, _after_ she turns thirty, he should be able to protect her!"

Lydia scoffed, "So you think that women need to be taken care of? You think that Malia is some simpering little girl who is going to wait around for a man to come and lock her up in a tower to keep her safe?" She took a step toward him, "Is that what you think about _me_?" Stabbing her finger against his chest, she glared harder, "Choose your words very wisely, Peter Hale…they could be your last."

"Lydia," Peter opened his mouth several times to answer but eventually he decided it was safer to let it rest. Lydia was clearly exhausted and their fighting was agitating the baby. "It's almost five in the morning and you have school tomorrow. You should get some rest, I'll put Owen back to bed."

"Oh no, you're not getting out of it that—OW!" Lydia gasped as Owen's itty bitty hand slashed against her chest as he began to screech again. Lydia stared incredulously at the tiny, razor-sharp claws adorning the child's hands. His heavy-lidded eyes burned yellow, illuminated even in the darkness of the room. "Peter—"

Peter plucked Owen from Lydia's arms before he could inflict any more damage. It wasn't that Lydia was in any imminent danger but Peter didn't want Lydia to experience any more pain. "There's a towel in the bathroom…" He bit back a curse at the look of shock on her face. "I'll explain after you clean up."

Blood seeped from the wounds, staining the shirt Lydia had borrowed from Peter. Hurrying into the other room, Lydia flicked the switch on and groaned; the light was a harsh contrast against the darkened bedroom. There were five perfect gashes across her collarbone. None of them were particularly deep but they stung as she washed them, placing a towel to sop up the blood. Grabbing another t-shirt, she pulled it on over her head. Peter's soft, masculine scent enveloped her; it was clear he had worn this shirt before her. Despite the tenderness she felt for the two boys waiting for her in the other room, fury burned in her chest.

Grabbing baby socks from the pack, Peter doubled them up as he placed them over Owen's hands. It wouldn't do to have the infant accidentally scratch himself, even if he could heal. While Lydia cleaned up, he settled Owen in the makeshift crib. Softly he sang a lullaby that Derek and Cora had adored growing up. "Hushabye, don't you cry…go to sleep my little baby. When you wake you shall have, all the pretty little horses…"

All the anger Lydia was prepared to unleash upon Peter died away when his soft, rumbling voice reached her ears. She leaned in the doorway with her eyes closed tight and just listened. Owen's whimpering weakened with each verse until Lydia couldn't hear it anymore. Tiptoeing into the room again, Lydia slipped her hand into Peter's. He didn't resist her as she led them downstairs into the living room. "Do you want to explain what that was?" She shivered against the coolness in the house and rubbed her arms.

Peter grabbed a grey chenille throw from the back of the couch and rested it over her shoulders. "Owen is a born werewolf…" He explained softly. "I wasn't sure at first but I saw his eyes tonight. Roberta Harris wasn't a werewolf which means that whoever Owen's father is, he's one."

"I thought that those of you who are born werewolves don't wolf out until they start puberty. That's how it was for Derek and Malia…" Lydia probed. "Is something wrong with him, Peter?" Fear coursed through her, "We have to find some way to help him."

"There's nothing wrong with him," Peter soothed, leading Lydia over to the couch. He settled beside her, smiling gently, "Certain werewolf traits manifest themselves from birth. Popping claws, especially in newborns, is very common. He was just upset that we were fighting. I promise you, he's the picture of health." Peter rubbed her back gently to soothe her, "Are you alright?"

Lydia felt a rush of relief flow through her, "Thank goodness." If Owen were sick or hurt, she would have been devastated. Lydia tugged the blanket tighter around herself. "I'm fine, it's just a scratch. I've had worse." Going to bed after everything that had happened tonight seemed impossible. She'd have to run home to shower and change before school anyway. "Do you have any coffee?"

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Peter countered, smirking handsomely. Lydia rolled her eyes and he chuckled. "I'll make some," He offered and that earned him a smile. At least she hadn't torn his head off…metaphorically, of course.

While Peter fumbled with the coffee pot, Lydia snuck upstairs to grab her phone and to change back into yesterday's clothes. She noticed there were several missed calls and texts from Stiles. Stepping into the kitchen, Lydia's expression darkened as she listened to the messages. "The killer did go after Melissa last night, you were right…" Lydia set her phone down on the counter, "Thankfully, the Sheriff got there in time. Melissa ended up with a pretty deep gash in her abdomen but she should make a full recovery."

Peter's entire body tensed, "Did they catch her? The serial killer?"

"No," Lydia sighed, "But once Melissa wakes up, they are hopeful she can tell us something about her." Dragging a hand through her strawberry blonde hair, Lydia gratefully accepted a piping hot cup of French roast from Peter. He'd placed cream and sugar on the counter and she helped herself to both before taking a sip. It was bliss. "I'll sleep easier then this killer is put down for good."

"You can say that again," Peter took a long sip of his black coffee. "You should take pride in the fact that you were able to synthesize the details from your nightmare to save someone tonight."

Lydia looked up suddenly, "I didn't, Peter…you did." She chewed on her bottom lip, "I was so stuck in the details that I couldn't see the big picture." Wrapping her hands around the warmth of the cup, Lydia exhaled sharply, "I should be better at controlling this by now, right?"

Peter was silent for a moment. "There's nothing set in stone when it comes to the supernatural, Lydia. Banshees are a creature unto their own. Your kind has been around for millennia and still there is so little we know." All too many banshees became overwhelmed by their power. Eichen House was full of them; Meredith was just the very tip of the iceberg…but that was a conversation for another day. "For now, let's get through this and then I'll see what I can do to help you control your powers."

"Why would you do that?" Lydia asked, incredulously.

"Isn't it obvious?" Peter softened his gaze. Lydia was the object of his affection and he was determined to win her. Yet it ran deeper than that. Peter respected everything Lydia stood for and he'd seen a side to her tonight he couldn't ignore. "I owe you for everything that you've done for Owen. He's lucky that he has you to fight for him…"

"Someone has to…" Lydia replied softly. "His mother was murdered last night and we have no idea who his father is." She finished the last few sips of her coffee, shoulders sagging slightly. "I'm not sure I should even go to school today. What if Owen needs me?"

Chuckling softly, Peter shook his head, "Lydia, go to school, fill your head with knowledge, and we'll be here when you get back." He ignored her glare, "In just a few short months, you'll be graduating. Don't let yourself get behind because you're worried I can't care for Owen. I practically raised Derek and Cora myself…"

Lydia narrowed her eyes, unsure if that was comforting. Derek and Cora were alive, sure, but they weren't the most well-adjusted werewolves she knew. Owen would need her, now more than ever. "I know you're getting the baby furniture today but make sure you pick up some warmer clothes for Owen. I used the last onesie this morning. His diaper leaked overnight…" She bit her lip, "You'll have to start the laundry. Don't put him in any of the new onesies you bought until they've been washed, alright?" Lydia needed to make sure all her bases were covered before she headed out. "And if the social worker shows up I want you to call me immediately. You have a habit of getting yourself into trouble…"

"Yes, dearest," Peter smirked at her. "I swear that the world will still be on its axis when you return. It's only a few hours, Lydia." Opening up the cabinet, he pulled out a travel mug and poured the rest of the coffee into it. He handed it over to her, complete with cream and sugar. "Go home, take a shower, and don't worry. Owen and I will be fine."

The sky was beginning to lighten on the horizon and Lydia knew it was time to go. It was only very reluctantly that she accepted the coffee and grabbed her bag. Peter had placed the keys to the Prius on top of it. Pausing for a moment in the doorway, Lydia gathered her strength. "I'll be back by four…"

"We'll be waiting," Peter smiled tenderly. He took no pleasure in how conflicted Lydia looked yet there was a secret place inside of him that welcomed her reluctance. She wanted to be here…with him. It was more than he could ever have hoped for. "Try to have a good day, sweetheart."

Lydia nodded sadly before forcing her feet to move. Trudging to the car, she took another sip of her coffee. Peter had put a garage door opener in there for her and despite how awful it felt to be leaving, she smiled. Things would be alright…they would have to be. For now, all she could do was have faith.

* * *

><p><strong>You guys are amazing! Your reviews and comments have really fueled my muse and look at this shiny new chapter, just for you! Keep reviewing, shoutout on Twitter (MarinaBlack99) or Tumblr (link in my profile). I love it! The more feedback I get, the more I want to write and the faster you'll get updates. I have some big, big things planned for this chapter. <strong>

**HUGE shoutout to my Beta JustVisiting80 who is the best EVER. She is such a talented writer and is the best internet wifey ever. She supports me when things are going to hell in a handbasket. Go check out her writing for Star Crossed and the 100. **

**Happy Friday!**

**-Marina**


	3. Chapter 3

"Lydia!"

It was almost lunchtime and Lydia had been worried sick about Owen all morning. Peter hadn't called or texted—not that she expected him to. Lydia startled at the sharpness of Stiles' voice rising over the thunderous ticking of the clock. The entire economics class turned in tandem to stare at the awkward teenager who had broken the silence. Stiles was sitting at his desk, leaned all the way over so his face was next to Lydia's ear. She had been completely lost int thought.

Coach's face tightened in annoyance, "Something you'd like to share with the class, Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles floundered, his mouth opening and closing several times before he nervously cleared his throat, "Uhh…nope…nothing, Coach." Thankfully, he was saved by the bell. Coach's voice boomed over the noise of students getting out of their chairs and heading toward the lunchroom, cursing Stiles and promising extra laps at lacrosse practice later. Stiles and Scott followed Lydia out to her locker. Stiles was tapping his foot impatiently, his hands fisted around the straps of his backpack. "Lydia, I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes! This is serious!"

"So is passing economics," Lydia replied breezily, tossing her book into the back of the locker and picking up her lunch. Pausing to check her reflection in the mirror, she sighed. There was a dark purple stain of exhaustion that sat beneath her eyes that wasn't quite covered by her foundation. She grabbed her rosy red lipstick from her bag, refreshing her lips before turning to face Scott and Stiles. "Well?" She groused, "Talk!"

Scott ushered Lydia toward the lunchroom, sitting in the corner where they wouldn't be easily overheard. Stiles flanked Lydia on the other side, instinctively putting her in the middle in case they were suddenly attacked. At Beacon Hills High School, there was just no telling what horror or monstrosity could descend at any moment. Once they were seated, Scott began to speak hesitantly, "My mother is still pretty incoherent, they have her on a lot of medication." He paused a moment, the pain written all over his face.

Lydia reached out, resting her hand on top of Scott's. "I'm so sorry. I wish I had realized it sooner…" The motion caused her sweater to slip slightly, revealing the livid claw marks that Owen had left across her chest.

"What the hell is that?" Stiles snarled, "Did Peter do that to you? I'm going to kill him!" Balling up his fist, he smacked it against the table. The movement sent a shockwave of pain radiating up Stiles' arm and he let out a shriek of discomfort.

"It wasn't Peter, Stiles!" Lydia's expression grew dangerous and both Scott and Stiles leaned away from her in fear of retaliation. Lydia tugged her sweater closed, and cleared her throat, "If you must know, the scratches came from Owen." Scott and Stiles shared a look Lydia knew meant trouble. "What?"

Stiles was practically giddy with excitement, "We may have found a link between all of the women." He grabbed a well worn notebook from his backpack and flipped it open. "Taryn Carlisle was the first victim. She was twenty-four years old and had two children with her husband." Flipping the page, he pointed to the second woman's name, "Erin Walchyk, thirty, had a daughter." Stiles put his finger up to make a point and ended up nearly stabbing Lydia in the eye. He deflated slightly against the searing heat of Lydia's glare. "The one outlier was Angela Zhou. Eighteen years old, freshman at Oregon State University…"

"I think if you have an outlier in a serial killer case, you're missing a link. Besides, Mrs. McCall is older than the other victims. There are too many holes in your pattern." Lydia replied coolly. This killer was choosing her victims based on something and Lydia refused to believe it was random. The dreams she had put her inside the mind of the killer; this woman was calculated, cruel, and intelligent.

"That's exactly what Stiles said," Scott pressed eagerly. "So, his dad started looking into Angela's extracurricular activities. She studied abroad her senior year of high school…or at least she said she did."

Stiles flipped to the back of the notebook, "Angela Zhou's parents are ultraconservative and were very upset when she got pregnant at the end of her junior year. They packed her up and sent her to a private program for unwed teenage mothers. When she gave birth she was forced to give up the child for Christian adoption." He lowered his voice considerably, "My father was able to trace the records and Angela gave birth to a baby boy eight months ago…"

Lydia's stomach turned over. "So Angela fits the pattern. The killer is going after mothers." Now it wasn't such a secret as to why social services was so backed up right now.

"Not just mothers," Stiles peered at her, "Mothers of children who have supernatural abilities. Kaylee Verbeek, the one who shaved her head, has a seven year old daughter who's a werecoyote. Malia smelled her when she came into the station with her aunt." Stiles gazed over at Scott, "Melissa has a son with claws too—"

"Roberta had Owen." Lydia finished for him. She dragged a hand through her hair, letting out a shaky breath. Her hand fell to cover the wound that Owen had accidentally inflicted this morning. "He was born a werewolf." Lydia chewed her bottom lip, "So we're looking at a were-creature who wants to kill the mothers of other were-people?" She shook her head, "That makes it sicker somehow."

Scott sighed heavily, "We're not sure if this is related but all the victims are also all single moms. Taryn had just filed for divorce from her husband. Kaylee used a donor to get pregnant—she may not have even known what her daughter was." Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, Scott felt a heavy weight sitting in his chest. "My mom is single too…and if Roberta had anyone in her life, there's no trace of him anywhere."

Stiles nodded ardently at everything Scott was saying. "Now that we have a link between the victims, we need you to use those banshee powers to find this psycho."

Lydia let out a soft huff of displeasure, "I am doing my best, Stiles. When I close my eyes, I'm drowning in voices trying to contact me from beyond the grave. It's a constant barrage that I haven't figured out how to filter yet." She frowned, "It's very disorienting." Twisting a strand of strawberry blonde hair around her finger, she met Scott's gaze. "You can actually thank Peter for saving your mom. I was overwhelmed by the images and the angry impulses I was reading off the killer. I just couldn't piece it together.

Both boys cringed at the sound of Peter's name. Stiles scoffed, "You cannot trust Peter Hale. He's only out for himself. Whatever you think he's doing to help you and this child, it's just a means to an end. He'll take and take and take until you're nothing but a shell of your former self. Look at Derek! Does he seem like a super well adjusted guy to you? No! He's miserable! _All_ the Hales are!"

Lydia gritted her teeth angrily. "_Peter_ realized Melissa would be coming off the late shift with a stethoscope. He was the one who insisted we call. If not for him, Scott's mom would be victim number six!" She stood abruptly, "I'm not asking you to trust Peter. I'm asking you to trust me."

Stiles looked like he'd been kicked in the gut. "Lydia!"

"No!" Lydia snapped, "That's the last I want to hear on the subject!" Stalking out of the lunch room, Lydia gritted her teeth. She stormed into the bathroom and plopped down on top of the toilet seat. Lydia realized very quickly that she was not alone. Malia crawled beneath the bathroom door, sitting against the stall door. Lydia groaned, "Malia, that's so unsanitary. Get off the floor!"

"It's cleaner than most of the places that I've been…" Malia shrugged complacently but stood up to placate Lydia nonetheless. "I heard you talking to Scott and Stiles. I'm helping with the investigation." There was a beat of silence before Malia spoke up again, "We have to catch this serial killer bitch. Growing up without parents really sucks…"

The implication of what Malia was insinuating cut Lydia to the quick. Malia's adoptive father didn't know what to do with her after she returned from the woods, and he had dumped her at Eichen House. Malia practically lived at the Stilinski house these days; it wasn't only because of her relationship with Stiles but because she really had no place to call her own. "We'll catch the killer, Malia," Lydia soothed. Stepping out of the stall, Lydia forced Malia to wash her hands at the same time she did. Afterward, she ushered Malia out of the bathroom. "I know that Peter isn't exactly the easiest person to get along with. He's no angel."

"Stiles called him a backstabbing self-centered asshole…"

"That's…actually pretty accurate…" Lydia replied weakly, "But he has the potential to be so much more." Malia followed Lydia toward their last class of the day, and the most dreaded of all: _math_. Leaning against the lockers as they waited for the bell to ring, Lydia could see the gears turning inside Malia's head. "Do you remember when you first turned back into a girl? Your first night home you went back into the woods…"

"I was hunting deer." Malia stated matter-of-factly. "Then they packed me up and carted me off to Eichen House." Her expression suddenly changed, "Stiles told me that I can't do that anymore. It's not something that normal people do."

"You learned from that experience," Lydia offered and Malia nodded. "In a lot of ways, Peter is like you."

"He goes running naked in the woods? But Stiles _said_—"

Lydia bit back a smirk, "Not that part, Malia. I mean that he's learning from his mistakes. After the fire, he was deeply disturbed. The anguish he suffered while locked inside his body manifested itself in such a profoundly disturbing way." She narrowed her eyes, "I'm not saying it gives him a free pass. He hurt me too." Without thinking about it, her hand covered the livid scar at her waist that served as a lifelong reminder. "Stiles and Scott will tell you that I'm deluding myself and maybe I am, Malia…but you haven't seen Peter the way that I have. If you spend an hour with him—"

"Okay." Malia interrupted, her expression remained blank.

"Okay what?" Lydia furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Malia cocked her head to the side as if Lydia had grown another head. "I'll spend an hour with Peter." The shrill ringing of the bell caused her to grimace, "It can't be any worse than math." Slogging into the classroom, Malia took her usual seat next to Lydia.

They were both counting down the minutes until this class was over…the end of the day could not come soon enough.

* * *

><p>Peter was having a hell of a time trying to get Owen to settle down. After Lydia left in the morning, Owen had slept for only an hour before he got up and had been fussy ever since. Peter fed him several times, changed him, gave him a little bath, rocked him, sang to him…but it was no use. Owen vacillated between full-on screaming, wailing, and whimpering; all of which seemed to be designed to tear Peter's heart right out of his chest. Peter slumped over the carseat that Owen rested in, and rested his forehead against the cool plastic. The only logical conclusion Peter could come up with was that he was missing his mother…or Lydia…or both.<p>

"I miss her too, buddy," Peter murmured to the agitated changing into a pair of jeans and a clean v-neck, Peter decided the best course of action was to distract both of them. He never had much use for a car. Peter loved his motorcycle and enjoyed roaming the woods on foot. Unfortunately, neither was an option with a tiny infant. Lydia had taken the Prius to school and that left him stranded with the baby. The money that had been returned to him after they managed to shut down the deadpool was slightly less than what he'd had before, however it was more than enough to live comfortably. He called up the local dealership and two hours later, they were delivering the biggest, baddest SUV on the lot. Lydia might be content driving that little tin can but Peter was not taking any chances with Owen.

Almost as soon as Peter got into the car and strapped the car seat in, Owen began to calm. By the time Peter pulled onto the main road into town, the baby was sleeping soundly. He didn't make a peep as Peter slipped him out of the car and headed into the only baby boutique in town. The moment he stepped inside, Peter felt like he'd entered an alternate dimension. There wasn't a single other man in this store. Women at various stages of pregnancy turned to stare at him…

Peter placed Owen's car seat onto the cart. "We're outnumbered…" The baby continued to sleep, unperturbed by the turn of events. Walking up and down the aisles, Peter was soon realizing that he was not only outnumbered but he was sorely outclassed as well. There were cribs in all colors, shapes, sizes, and prices; there were safety ratings, mom's picks, and employee favorites. Peter's head was spinning with all the choices. His cell phone was burning a hole in his pocket and he had to steel himself against calling Lydia… She was already convinced he couldn't take care of Owen on his own and this would only prove her right.

It took three salespeople to explain the difference between a bassinet and a crib to Peter. After that, he handed the manager his credit card and told him to pick the sturdiest, safest nursery furniture available and bring it out to the car. With that crisis averted, Peter went to look at strollers. They all looked good, so he chose the most expensive one—to be on the safe side. Afterward, he headed into the clothing department. The sheer volume was suffocating…how could something so tiny need so many clothes? He considered turning and running in the opposite direction but Lydia told him to get the baby some warmer clothes…and he was not going come home empty handed.

Cursing inwardly, Peter picked up several jackets, trying to size them based on the sleeping baby. Eventually, he got fed up and tossed a bunch of things into the carriage and damn the consequences. He'd keep the receipts and Lydia could holler at him later. They'd already been at this store for hours and Owen would be hungry soon.

After putting a major dent into his savings, Peter hurried his way back home. When they pulled into the garage, Owen was just starting to stir. By the time he got a bottle made, Peter looked up at the clock and groaned. How the hell was it after noon? Lydia would be home in a few hours and he wanted to have all this done before she got here. And so…Peter did the only thing he could. Grabbing his phone, he pressed the speed dial.

"What?"

"Is that any way to greet your favorite uncle?" Peter snarked but then thought better of it. "I need your help."

"I'm busy," Derek replied hotly. His finger hovered over the button to disconnect the call when the soft whimpering of a baby reached his ears. Now that his werewolf powers had been restored, he felt as if his senses were hypersensitive. "I'll be there in five minutes." True to his word, Derek was ready to knock the door down a few minutes later. "This is an all time low for you! You stole a baby!?" His fist tightened. "Where's the mother!?"

Peter bounced Owen gently. "Dead…slashed into pieces, as a matter of fact." Derek was ready to think the worst when Peter rolled his eyes. "Surely Scott has filled you in on the serial killer who's made her way to Beacon Hills? Well this is Owen Harris. His mother was killed and since he has no relatives, I've been awarded temporary custody."

"What lunatic would let you have custody of a baby!?" Derek snapped, "And why would you want it? You don't have a paternal bone in your body!"

"Au contraire, I'm finding that I'm quite enjoying having this little guy around…" Owen chose that moment to unleash a torrent of spit up onto Peter's shirt. That would teach him to bounce a baby around immediately after giving him a bottle. Silence hung between the two men for a moment and Peter took a deep breath. "I am finding, however, that I have things to learn. I also cannot watch the baby, do the laundry, fix something to eat, and put together the nursery."

Derek remained stoic although the muscle in his jaw ticked mirthfully. "I've seen many sides of you: doting uncle, raving lunatic, manipulative bastard, beast…but stay-at-home dad is one I never thought I'd add to the list." Despite his reservations, Derek began to unload everything from the car. The third bedroom, which remained mostly for storage, was perfect for the nursery. It was all cleared out now and Derek carried everything upstairs.

Peter made sure to burp the baby thoroughly before he tossed everything into the laundry to be washed. With Owen changed and in a fresh new outfit, Peter headed upstairs to help Derek put the nursery together. Already he had the framework of the crib done and was screwing it together. "I appreciate you taking the time to come over and help…"

"I didn't do it for you," Derek replied coolly. He honestly thought the child he'd heard on the phone might be in danger…until he actually saw Peter with him. Derek had been very quiet as he came in and out of the garage but he had watched the scene very carefully. Peter doted on the little boy, it was written all over his face. There was no fear in the child's scent—only that of contentment and adoration. "How long is he staying?"

Peter settled the baby in the car seat while they worked, but he would be very glad to have something else for Owen to rest in soon. "They granted me temporary custody for sixty days but it can be revoked at any time. It was made very clear to me that a social worker would be out here within the next three days. They're a bit backlogged at the moment."

Nodding curtly, Derek tested the bolts to make sure the crib would hold before settling the bottom and the crib mattress in. They still had the bureau, the changing table, and the rocking chair to put together but at least now the child had someplace to sleep. "What happens after sixty days?"

Despite his best efforts, Peter had been thinking about that nonstop. Roberta Harris had no family or friends to speak of. She'd been very private and there was little chance that anyone would come to claim this child. Yet adopting this baby would be hindered by his status as a single man. His lawyer had already advised him that it would be a lengthy and undoubtedly costly process. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it…"

Derek continued opening up packages and throwing mountains of packing material out into the hall. He was halfway through the changing station when his entire body tensed. "Someone is coming…"

"It's Lydia," Peter replied without thinking.

"Lydia?" Derek thundered, startling Owen in the process. "What the hell would Lydia Martin be doing here?" He'd been so focused on the baby that he hadn't realized Lydia's scent was all over this house. Her gentle perfume lingered in the living room, in the guest room, and on the tiny child who was gearing up for a tantrum.

When Peter turned to comfort Owen, he was shocked to see his daughter hunched over the baby carrier. Malia was down on all fours, sniffing the baby cautiously. Seeing Malia and Owen together was something he could hardly have fathomed, even in his wildest imagination. He was frozen in place, even as Lydia stepped into the doorway. She must have understood his plight, because she jumped right in to smooth things over.

"Malia's going to spend a couple hours here—"

"You said _one_ hour," Malia interrupted, "Just one." She sat back on her haunches, assessing the child clinically. "It's cute but it smells." Her dark eyes swept up to meet Peter's, "It smells like you."

Lydia nodded, "Owen is a werewolf. He was born one, like Derek and Peter. Just like you were born a werecoyote." Scooping Owen up into her arms, Lydia felt as if everything were right in the world. The orneriness disappeared immediately and Owen cooed, snuggling right in. "You were very productive. Thanks for getting everything, I hope it wasn't too much trouble." She smiled at Peter, "I see we have a few Hales here today."

"_All_ of the Hales," Derek countered, "Except for Cora and she's never coming back." Malia had wandered over and was trying out the new rocking chair that he'd put together. Derek didn't mind, it was nice to have children around again. For just this moment, it felt like life before the fire when they were mostly happy.

Peter resisted the urge to tug Lydia into his arms and kiss her until her knees buckled. The only thing in the world that mattered to Peter was family and Lydia had somehow managed to bring all of them together in less than twenty-four hours. Malia was the wildcard, he couldn't figure out why she would want to be here…but she seemed content, swinging her legs. There was no anger in her posture or in her scent, which surprised him. After everything he'd done…malice was the very least he expected from her. "We should do something for dinner…"

Lydia felt that she might melt under the intensity of Peter's gaze. He stared at her hungrily, almost predatorily, and it sent heat zipping through the core of her. If not for Malia and Derek, she wasn't sure what would've happened. "That sounds good. Derek, Malia, I hope you can stay…"

Derek shook his head incredulously. "Family dinner?" Frosty the Snowman was probably having a blast skating all the way to hell and back. Derek seriously considered saying no right then and there…but leaving Malia with Peter, Lydia, and the baby seemed unfair. The poor girl had been through enough. "Sounds fine."

"I could eat a whole deer by myself." Malia announced, earning her a rare smile from Derek.

"It's settled then." Owen was getting sleepy against her shoulder again and it would be suppertime before long.

Malia suddenly moved toward Lydia again, "Can I hold it? I bet it's heavier than it looks…"

Lydia looked incredibly unsure but Peter nodded immediately. "Go sit down in the chair. The baby's name is Owen, Malia. You don't have to call him an 'it'." Peter rested his hand on the small of Lydia's back. "It's okay, she won't hurt him." Easing the baby into Malia's arms, Owen didn't make a peep as he snuggled in close.

"I think it—" Malia caught herself quickly, "He likes me. Owen likes me."

Lydia remained at Peter's side, worried that Malia might make a sudden movement or drop the baby somehow. Yet Malia seemed more than content just to snuggle him close…and smell him a bit more. "The laundry was almost done when I went by. I'm going to go switch it…" Lydia headed back downstairs, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"I'll come with you. I'll get dinner figured out," Peter offered. Peter's icy blue eyes bore into Derek's chocolate ones. "Watch her," He commanded and headed downstairs after Lydia.

Malia looked over at Derek before she gazed down at Owen again. "They're going to make out with each other, aren't they?"

Derek nodded, a pensive expression on his face, "Yeah, I think they are…" Though he wasn't sure why it didn't bother him.

Hurrying into the laundry room, Lydia switched over the baby clothes into the dryer as efficiently as possible. When she turned to head back into the kitchen, she nearly rammed straight into Peter. "Oh…" Her heart pounded in her throat as she looked up at him. Memories of last night flashed through her, Peter's hot, warm flesh against her skin, his rippling muscles that held her tight and didn't let her fall. A flush crept over her cheeks as she nearly lost herself in his cobalt eyes.

Power thrummed through Peter as he gazed down at Lydia. He wanted to grab her and throw her up against the dryer…but she deserved something better. She deserved to be treated like a princess, not a whore. He reached for her, cupping her cheek and his thumb brushed away a wayward strand of her hair. His heartbeat kicked up in his chest as he bent down, his lips parting ever so slightly as he pressed her against the rumbling dryer.

Every cell in Lydia's body was on fire as she slid her hands over his hips. She couldn't wait to devour him. Her breasts swelled and ached for his touch almost as badly as the core of her. She stood on tiptoe to capture his mouth when a harsh ringing shattered the moment. Breathing heavily, Lydia pressed a hand to her belly to quell the butterflies. "Is that the food already?"

"I haven't ordered anything yet…" Peter's voice was gruff with desire. He was hard as a rock and fairly sure the pressure against his fly was going to cause him severe brain damage. "Maybe if we ignore it, it'll go away?"

The doorbell rang again…and then again…the horrid noise agitated Owen and he began to scream at the top of his lungs. Lydia groaned. "I'll get the baby, you get the door." She hurried upstairs and quickly plucked Owen from Malia's arms. The sound of a shrill, angry voice from downstairs made Lydia break out in a cold sweat. This was not the time for her banshee senses to kick in…

Lydia took the stairs carefully with the baby in her arms. She was three steps into the kitchen before she saw it, standing there in front of her. The woman was grey and sallow, her body caked with mud from the rains and her fingernails torn from fighting. Her face was bloated and her innards slashed and pouring out of her. In an instant, Lydia dragged in a breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.

The world seemed to shatter, leaving her breathless and clammy. Peter had taken Owen from her arms and held him tight, shielding him from the ear-splitting shriek that Lydia let out. Lydia stood there, pale and shivering as the image of the corpse died away, leaving in its wake a very perturbed, lividly angry woman from the department of social services.

One thing was for sure, they were in deep trouble now.

* * *

><p><strong>Woof! This was quite the chapter. Almost 5000 words in this chapter alone, guys! Your reviews, tweets, and tumblrs have really motivated me to keep writing this fic. If you want more, keep it up! I love the feedback and it's what gets me through moments when my muse is suffering.<strong>

**Teen Wolf finale tomorrow! Ah! I am so excited/scared. I think what I'm looking forward to most is the Peter/Malia scenes. I love their dynamic so much! I can't wait to see how it all plays out. I'm super scared for Derek though...I don't think I could survive losing that scruffy face on the show! I'll be live tweeting (during commericals only because I refuse to miss a second of the action) tomorrow night, so feel free to join me! Follow MarinaBlack99!**

**HUGE shoutout to my amazing beta JustVisiting80 who is so epic. She wrote her own chapter for Fire and Ice-her AWESOME fic for the 100-and managed to edit this one too! She is totally freaking epic. Show her some love! She deserves it!**

**Happy Sunday!**

**Marina**


	4. Chapter 4

Not a single person moved.

In the aftermath of Lydia's outburst, the social worker was terse and her lips pressed into a tight line. The woman was in her late fifties with graying black hair tied in a tight knot at the top of her head. She clutched her briefcase so tightly her knuckles turned white. "What is the meaning of this?" She bellowed, facing Peter and the baby. "Mr. Hale, I was made to stand outside for fifteen minutes and then I am greeted by this young woman screaming in my face! How can you expect me to believe that this is a safe environment for a three week old infant? I'm sorry, but I—"

Malia was drawn by the commotion downstairs and the scent of a stranger. The smell that emanated from the angry woman gave Malia pause; she got the distinct impression from the looks of terror on Lydia and Peter's faces that this was not a good sign. Derek was also looking extremely uncomfortable from his position in the doorway. Taking the blame for the tension seemed an appropriate option to Malia; Stiles was forever covering for her when she slipped up and she had started to catch on. "I did it," She announced.

"Did what?" The social worker's frown deepened as she turned to inspect Malia.

Malia made a face that Peter knew she'd learned from Stiles. Peter moved swiftly to Lydia's side as he spoke. "Lydia is terrified of spiders and—"

"I ate one." Malia finished, looking very smug that she'd helped. Malia beamed happily…while everyone else in the room cringed. Gazing up at Peter, she flashed him half a smile before returning to Derek's side.

Scoffing in annoyance and disgust, the social worker straightened her posture, "Fine. Let's continue with the evaluation, shall we?" Padding over to the table, she opened up the briefcase with more force than was necessary. "My name is Mildred Dwyer, I'm from the Department of Social Services. I've been assigned to your case." She took out several business cards and set them out. A pair of red-rimmed spectacles hung around her neck and she slipped them on. Mildred's onyx eyes narrowed sternly as she stared through the glasses sitting on the end of her hooked nose. "Temporary custody of Owen Michael Harris was granted to a Mr. Peter Hale of One Forest Lane in Beacon Hills, California." She clicked her pen several times as she glanced between the two Hale men, "Which one of you is Peter?"

Already, Peter was convinced this woman was the devil…but he put on a charming smile and settled across from her with the baby in his arms. "I am. Owen has been here since yesterday. I think—"

"I am not here to get a sense of your opinions on the subject at hand, Mr. Hale. I'm here to conduct an unbiased investigation on the safe placement of this child." Mildred interrupted coldly, turning her attention back to the manila envelope in her hand.

Lydia was instantly at Peter's side, her hand tightening on his shoulder. His eyes flashed blue with violent anger and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if Owen were not snuggled in his arms, he'd have ripped the woman to shreds. Standing at his back, her body pressed gently against his as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

The calming scent and soft touch of Lydia at his side instantly calmed Peter, despite the rage that churned in his gut. As long as he had her, everyone would make it out of this interview alive. Forcing a smile, Peter nodded as complacently as he could manage. "Of course, I understand…"

Scratching from the ballpoint pen in Mildred's hand was enough to drive anyone insane. After a moment, she looked up from her notebook. "I'd like to begin with understanding who the rest of these people are. Names and relationship to you."

Peter shifted slightly. "Derek Hale, he's my nephew." Going from the easiest to the hardest would be the best option. "Malia Hale is my daughter." His stomach turned as peered over at Lydia. "Lydia Martin is…" There was a long pause in which the social worker looked up, "A close friend of the family." Peter practically held his breath waiting for the devil-woman's response to that.

Mildred simply nodded curtly, "Anyone who will have access to the child will need to submit to a background check." She grasped several forms from another envelope, "You can mail in the application or go online to the department of social services to submit your request." Without waiting for a response, she barreled ahead, "Why did you choose to become a temporary guardian to Owen Harris, Mr. Hale?"

"I was the one who came upon Owen after his mother's body was found…" Peter explained. "There was an instant connection between us. Finding out that he had no family or anyone to take him in prompted me to take action. I felt that Owen needed the stability of a loving home and there's nowhere else he'll be better cared for." Owen was snuggled in the crook of Peter's neck, happily sucking his fist. The baby wasn't asleep but his soft blue eyes drooped sleepily.

Derek remained silent and stoic, his arms crossed over his chest. Malia fidgeted; she hated staying still for very was the one who had to keep the tightest reign on her emotions. The fear of losing Owen was mounting and she was already a bit unsteady from the corpse she'd seen. She needed to text Stiles about that…but Lydia knew the woman from her vision was already dead. This was far more important. "Peter is an excellent guardian. He really cares about Owen. You should see the beautiful nursery he's prepared."

"We'll get to sleeping arrangements in due time," Mildred peered up from her notebook again, her eyes flicked between Lydia and Peter several times before she returned her attention to her notebook. "Malia, I'd like to hear about your experience growing up with Peter."

Malia was deadly silent as she looked to Lydia and Peter for the answer. Brow furrowed and fists tightened, she wished she could slip into a crack. "I didn't grow up with Peter. I was adopted when I was born."

The slashing of Mildred's pen against the paper became almost deafening as she furiously took notes. "You were given up for adoption yet you've chosen to meet your birth father. What's the nature of your relationship at this time?"

Peter held his breath. If this investigation was going to hinge on Malia telling the social worker he was a suitable father, he should start packing up Owen's diaper bag. Lydia's hand was so tight on his shoulder he was afraid she'd hurt her delicate hand. Even Derek looked uncomfortable, shifting his stance several times.

Malia cocked her head to the side as she mulled over her response, "I'm spending an hour here today, getting to know my father. It was Lydia's idea."

"How do you know Lydia?" Mildred pressed.

"She's Stiles's friend," Malia plopped down beside where Peter was sitting, lacing her fingers on the table as if she were giving a serious interview. "She helps me with my homework. Thanks to Lydia's notes, I'm not failing math anymore! She also makes sure I don't get into trouble." She shrugged, "She's part of my pack."

If Mildred found Malia's use of the word 'pack' suspicious, it didn't show on her face. She nodded swiftly. "Derek, what's your role within the family dynamic?" Blinking several times, she was poised to make more notes. Already she'd filled several pages that would be typed up into a report later, determining the fate of Owen and the Hale family.

"Peter's my uncle," Derek replied dryly. "He's the only family I have left…" He caught the look on Malia's face and his lips curved up into a half-smile, "Except for Malia, of course." That seemed to placate her. "Peter is…really good with Owen. He cares about him more than I've seen him care about anyone or anything in a long time." Derek's gaze slid to Lydia, knowing this little family was everything Peter ever wanted but was too afraid to hope for. To see it ruined now would rip away whatever humanity Peter had left…and Derek refused to let it happen.

There was a long pause before Mildred stood abruptly. "I'll need to tour the house now…" Finally the pen was put down and she smoothed the fabric of her pantsuit. Without waiting for an invitation, she started in the kitchen and opened several cabinets and the refrigerator before touring the den. Once she finished with the rest of the rooms downstairs, she headed upstairs. Despite the woman's icy exterior, she seemed to soften slightly as she walked through the nursery.

Lydia's stomach churned with uncertainty, the images of the dead woman still keeping her off kilter. Peter cuddled Owen in one arm, the other wrapping around her waist as they stayed downstairs and waited for Mildred to finish the home inspection. His anger still burned hot, mingling with the very real fear that Mildred was going to take Owen from them. Peter wasn't going to allow it, even if it meant ripping this nasty social worker apart piece by piece. Nobody was going to hurt his family while he was living and breathing…

Malia tapped her foot impatiently. "This is taking longer than an hour," She murmured, her eyes meeting Peter's. Something in his face must have reached her for a moment later she slumped, staring down at the woman's notes. Suddenly her entire body tensed and tightened like a wire getting ready to snap. All over the notebook were words in loopy scrawl that told the story of a bizarre family living in the middle of the woods. It made mention of Malia's awkwardness, Derek's stoicism, and Lydia and Peter's odd relationship. It wasn't looking good. The social worker reappeared and Malia whimpered, "Please don't take the baby away! I was just starting to like it…_him_."

Peter bit back a groan, tightening his grasp on Lydia. This could not end well…

"Despite the unusual greeting I was treated to, I do not feel Owen is in any imminent danger." Her tone conveyed a hint of skepticism. "Given that you have adequate food, the child is clean and clothed, and I cannot detect any signs of abuse or neglect I see no reason to remove the child at this time." Placing her notebook into her briefcase, she slipped the glasses from her face and allowed them to hang on the beaded chain. "That being said, you will continue to remain in the social services database. We will be checking in periodically and surprise home visits can occur at any time." She picked up her briefcase again, "We'll be watching you, Mr. Hale. Good day to you." Stalking toward the door like a woman on a mission, she promptly let herself out and drove off.

Lydia sagged under the crushing weight of her stress. She barely made it into the chair as her vision swam again. Holding her head tightly, Lydia looked up at Peter, "I'm so sorry. I almost caused you to lose Owen." Hot tears burned in her eyes. "I couldn't control the vision, it overwhelmed me…"

"Lydia," Peter let out a rumbling sigh, "I'm not angry with you. There's nothing you could have done and nothing to be sorry for." Cupping her cheek gently, he frowned markedly. "Owen is where he belongs." Her ashy color and the haunted look in her eyes tore a hole in his gut. "What did you see?"

"There's another victim. She was laying in the mud, at the bottom of a grassy area. Her body was ripped apart but she fought so hard, her hands were torn from trying to get free. " Lydia's voice shook and she wrapped her arms tighter around her body to comfort herself. "All I could hear was rumbling in the distance." Her head ached fiercely.

Derek's expression darkened. "I think I know where the body is," He explained. "There's a field near the edge of town. There's a freight yard nearby that trains pass through. The rumbling can get pretty loud sometimes. Plus, it's not too far from the river, it could certainly be muddy there."

Malia was already tugging her phone out of her pocket, "I'll text Stiles." Within moments, she got a text back. "They're on their way to check it out. I should go with them."

"I'll drop you by there, it's on my way," Derek offered.

Peter placed Owen in the car seat. Reluctantly, he left Lydia's side and followed Derek and Malia outside. He drew in a deep breath, "I want to thank you…both of you."

Derek raised an eyebrow in surprise. Actual gratitude from Peter was something that didn't happen too often. "You've done a lot of harm in this world. You're cruel, insensitive, and obsessed with power."

"Oh stop, I'm getting all warm and fuzzy," Peter snarked, his expression darkening in annoyance.

"But," Derek continued, "There's something different about you. I think you could actually be good at this given half a chance…so I made sure that's what you got. Don't screw this up." This could be Peter's redemption and Derek wasn't going to let anyone get in the way of that.

Malia gazed at Peter, "Stiles says you're a self-serving bastard. But Lydia said if I spent an hour with you then I'd start to see the person you are beneath the surface," She stated baldly before she shrugged. "I should listen to Lydia more often."

Peter gritted his teeth. "Stiles said that…" Biting back on his anger was something Peter was not wholly experienced in but today was certainly giving him a lot of practice. He was going to have to deal with the issue of Stiles Stilinski later. Right now, he wanted to get closer to Malia and that meant holding his tongue. Besides, there was a banshee and a baby inside who needed him more than he needed to fight right now. "Let us know what you find."

Once Derek and Malia were out of sight, Peter headed back inside the house. The silence that hung over the house was unnerving. "Lydia?" Following her scent upstairs, it led him to the nursery. She had settled down in the rocking chair, the baby curled up against her. In the short time it took him to say goodbye to Derek and Malia she had managed to fall asleep. Getting up with the baby last night and her vision had sapped all her energy; he was glad she was able to find a moment's peace. He smiled to himself, carefully taking Owen and placing him in the crib.

Lydia's breathing was soft and even. Peter wanted to let her rest but she'd be disturbed if the baby got up. He slid his arms around her back, lifting her as easily as if it were Owen he was carrying. He brought her through the doorway to the guest bedroom. Carefully, he laid her on top of the comforter before slipping off her shoes. He tugged the covers back, easing her beneath them. Lydia was almost as beautiful in sleep as she was when she was awake. He brushed a strand of her silky hair away from her forehead, tucking it gently behind her ear. Peter took a step toward the door when Lydia's hand snaked out to catch his, "Stay…"

Her eyes were shut tight and Peter wasn't sure if Lydia was awake or asleep…but one thing he did know for sure, he didn't want to go. He eased around the other side of the bed, climbing in beside her. She needed him, either consciously or subconsciously, and he was more than willing to oblige. The moment his weight pressed against the mattress, Lydia snuggled into his warmth. Peter's arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her against the muscular plane of his body. Her head rested against the crook of his arm as they cuddled there. Peter wasn't sure exactly when he fell asleep but he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, this was where he was meant to be.

* * *

><p><strong>Just a little caveat, most social workers aren't horrible like Mildred! They're here to help...but for the purposes of this story, their caseworker is a bit of a B! <strong>

**In other news, HOLY CRAP. How about that finale? If you haven't seen it yet...get on that! Peter was in rare form. Don't worry, he'll get saved. Hopefully by Lydia! Peter is just too valuable to be wasted like that, believe me. Have faith! And for your Peter fix, you can come here and read my fics! I'll continue to work on Worlds May Fall. I also have my Pydia one-shots to help you out too! **

**My beta Justvisiting80 is FANTASTIC. She doesn't even watch Teen Wolf (don't worry, I'm working on the situation) and she still edits my chapters so perfectly. Plus she live tweeted with me during the finale even though she had no idea what was going on LOL. Check out her work too! She's awesome!**

**Keep reading, reviewing, tweeting, tumblring, and PMing if you want more! The more feedback I get, the more I write and the faster you get chapters. It's what keeps me going, especially when the muses won't cooperate! Thank you all for your continued support!**

**-Marina**


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles held a hand over his mouth as he stared down the shallow ravine where they had found the body of Diana Moore. At twenty-nine years old, she was at the prime of her life…yet her wrists were covered with jagged cuts and scratches in various stages of healing. Her body was draped in bits of torn white cloth with small blue diamond patterns on them; this wasn't the fabric of a shirt or dress, she was wearing a gown from Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. A bloodied scrap of paper that had once been a hospital bracelet confirmed his suspicion immediately.

Sheriff Stilinski slipped his cell phone back into his pocket as he faced the body again. "The hospital confirmed that Diana Moore was being treated in the ED for self-inflicted wounds." He folded his arms, "She was transferred from Eichen House."

"If she wanted to die then why'd she fight so hard against the killer?" Malia furrowed her eyebrows. The whole scene reeked of fear and death. The killer's fury still lingered as well, tainting the cool nighttime breeze. Malia stayed close to Stiles, unwilling to chance anything happening to him.

The sheriff acknowledged Malia's question with a nod, "Diana tried to kill herself a month ago and was admitted to Eichen House. They know her very well there, according to the report. She has a long history of depression and anxiety. When she stops taking her medication, she becomes suicidal." It ached in his chest thinking about his young woman being ravaged by invisible demons…it reminded too much of Claudia. Brushing aside thoughts of the past, Sheriff Stilinski forged ahead. "When Diana first arrived, she was depressed but responding positively to her therapy, according to the staff. But about two weeks ago she began telling her psychologist there was someone watching her and waiting to kill her." He shook his head, "They thought that perhaps Diana had a psychotic break and changed her medications but there was no effect. She kept saying that she wasn't safe…"

Stiles filled in the blanks, "So when the fear became too much, Diana felt like she had no choice but to take matters into her own hands." It was Diana's way of maintaining control. "Do we know yet if she left the hospital on her own or if she was taken by the killer?"

"That's what I'm trying to determine now. Diana was being treated for her injuries in a locked portion of the emergency room that they use to house psychiatric patients. Getting out would've been difficult without help of some kind." The Sheriff replied. "I need to swing by the hospital to check on Melissa and then I'm going to review the tapes." The coroner was packing up Diana Moore's body to be placed in the morgue with the other victims; that was his cue that they needed to get moving.

"What about her baby?" Malia probed, taking a step closer to the edge of the ravine again. "The other victims had children, right? What about hers?" Gazing over at Stiles, she caught his slight smile and beamed back at him. She was intent on helping with the investigation as best she could.

Sheriff Stilinski flashed her an indulgent smile, "Diana has a daughter but she no longer has custody of her. The girl lives with her father out of state. Deputy Parrish is contacting them as we speak. He's very gentle when it comes to these types of things." He rested a hand on Malia's shoulder, "Go home with Stiles." The Sheriff faced his son, "There's leftover pizza in the fridge. Get your homework done. I know you've got that algebra test tomorrow." He hid his smirk as Malia scowled. "I'll see you two later."

Stiles grasped Malia's hand again, "Sure dad, thanks." The two of them headed back toward the Jeep. Malia got the feeling there was more to this story than the Sheriff was letting on. Stiles seemed oblivious as he began chatting about the killer until the conversation turned to her afternoon. He wouldn't be thrilled she'd gone to Peter's but she had nothing to be sorry for. It was time she got to know her family, no matter what anyone said.

Once the teenagers were out of earshot, Sheriff Stilinski let out a rumbling sigh, "So, what do you think?" His voice carried into the thickening darkness.

Derek appeared out of the hazy fog with his arms crossed over his chest. "It fits the pattern but Diana Moore isn't just a victim. She's also a banshee."

"Like Lydia…" The Sheriff let out a bitter curse. "Perhaps the killer wasn't stalking her then. Maybe she was predicting her own death." Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he gazed over at Derek.

"Exactly," Derek replied. "Although, I don't think Diana knew what she was. She doesn't appear to be as strong as Lydia. It also makes sense as to why she'd be sent to Eichen House. I'd be depressed too if I was constantly barraged with images of death and destruction…"

Now that the body had been removed from the crime scene the ancillary personnel who had been combing the area left. It was eerily quiet; the only sound they heard was the low rumble of trains passing through the shipyard. No birds sang, no crickets chirped, the fauna had been scared off by the violent predator ravaging Beacon Hills. Sheriff Stilinski walked with Derek toward his cruiser. "We've got to find this killer soon," He hesitated a moment, "I know he's your uncle but…are you absolutely certain Peter has nothing to do with this?"

"When it comes to Peter, I can't be sure of anything," Derek stated dryly. "But in this case, Peter was nowhere near here when this murder happened. He was with Lydia all night, he spent the entire day getting things for the baby, and the social worker was there this afternoon." Sniffing the air several times, Derek tightened his fist, "He was right, though. The killer is definitely female. Beyond that, her scent is masked. The only thing I know is that she's incredibly angry."

The Sheriff visibly deflated; blaming Peter for the crimes would've been so much easier. "Back to the drawing board then…" He stopped suddenly as his stomach seized. "What do you mean Lydia was with him all night?"

Derek patted him on the back, "She's eighteen, Sheriff. She's old enough to make her own bad decisions." His lips curled up into half a smile. He kept it to himself but deep down, Derek knew that Lydia was what Peter needed to heal. The scars from the fire had faded on the surface but the disfiguration still ran deep. It was going to take a lot more than time to heal those wounds. Today he'd seen Peter protect Owen and Lydia and it reminded him of a simpler time. Derek saw Peter morph into a man far less jaded and cynical about the world. It was the first time in a very long time that Derek actually had hope. "You should go. You never know what's roaming around here at night."

There was no disagreement from Sheriff Stilinski. Beacon Hills was becoming quite the hotbed of supernatural activity. Violence and death lurked around every corner. The sooner they were out of the dark, the safer they'd be. Derek rode his motorcycle behind the Sheriff all the way to the hospital to make sure he got there in one piece. Once the Sheriff was safely inside, Derek circled back and headed toward the loft. For now, he'd done all he could to aid the investigation. It was time to get home to Braeden.

* * *

><p>Lydia's fingertips connected with a warm body laying at her side. She awakened slowly, pushing against the haziness of her exhaustion. Peter's arm was wrapped tightly around her waist and his hot breath against her neck sent shivers down her spine. The intimate way he cradled her against his body made her pulse kick up. He was so handsome, especially when he was unperturbed by the danger lurking in their lives. Without a single sarcastic word tumbling from his lips, he was beautiful. If not for the aching in her bladder, she would've been content to stay here for the rest of eternity.<p>

Lydia wiped the sleep from her eyes and gazed over at the clock. It was only nine o'clock in the evening; even though it felt as if she'd slept the whole night away. After freshening up, Lydia padded into the nursery. Owen gazed up at her, chewing his tiny fist and kicking his legs. "Shh…" She murmured softly to the baby. Somehow she'd managed to disentangle herself from Peter without waking him up which clearly meant he needed his rest. She was more than happy to give him a break.

After Owen was cleaned up, Lydia headed downstairs. It was time for his evening meal and Lydia's stomach ached with hunger as well. Owen's needs came first and she made him up a bottle. While he ate hungrily in her arms, she rifled through the fridge. The fridge was pretty empty except for half a dozen eggs, half a package of bacon, a small container of milk, some cold cuts that looked like they had been there a while, and a couple oranges. The freezer wasn't much better; its contents consisted of frozen steaks, a couple bags of peas, and an ice pack. The pantry contained only flour, dried beans, beef jerky, sugar, and spices. She made a mental note to remind Peter to hit the grocery store tomorrow. They would need more diapers too…Lydia was starting to understand the appeal of buying in bulk.

Thumbing through the items Peter had purchased, Lydia smiled when she came across a sling to hold the child near while keeping the hands free. Lydia slipped it around her neck before placing Owen inside. He sighed happily, snuggling against her warmth. Now that he was fed and settled, she pulled things out of the fridge. Breakfast for dinner seemed the best idea. She peeled an orange and set it on a plate. Then she placed a pan of bacon into the oven to crisp up, she began to heat the stove to make eggs. When she turned again, Peter was standing right behind her. "I hope I didn't wake you…"

"You _should_ have woken me," Peter groused. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." There was an aching sense of loss when he'd woken up and Lydia was not tucked in his arms. For the first time in as long as he could remember he hadn't been tormented by nightmares of being burned alive.

"You were tired, Peter. There's no shame in that," Lydia replied coolly. "You were up with the baby the same as I was." She rubbed Owen's back gently as she peered at him, "By the way, you need to go shopping tomorrow. We need more diapers and you desperately need real food." She motioned to the stove, "I was going to make some scrambled eggs."

Peter nodded swiftly, "Go sit down. I can handle it." He waited for an argument that never came. Lydia settled at the breakfast nook, making herself at home instantly. She gazed at Owen so lovingly that it made Peter feel weak in the knees. Lydia Martin was such a surprise. If anyone had asked what he thought he'd have said she was a weak, narcissistic girl…but the more he got to know her she was a sweet, genuine woman with more patience in her little finger than he had in his entire body. Lydia's strawberry blonde hair fell over her shoulders, gently brushing against Owen's hands. The baby wrapped a hand around the silky strand, holding tight. She laughed, smoothing the child's white-blonde hair. When she looked up at Peter there were tears shimmering in her eyes. Peter felt his stomach seize, "What's wrong?"

"I just keep thinking about Roberta. She's never going to hold her baby again. She's not going to see him smile or say his first word, take his first steps…" Lydia swiped at the tears burning down her cheeks. "Owen will never know her either. He'll forever wonder what his mother was like, if she loved him, and who his father was…" Lydia snuggled the baby tighter. "It's not just Owen either, it's _every_ child who lost their mother… I should be able to see more. I should be able to control it by now!"

Peter brought over two plates of bacon and eggs, setting one in front of her. "Lydia, what this killer is doing is out of your hands." He cupped her cheek, holding her gaze. "We'll find her." And when they did, he was going to tear her apart from the inside out.

"How many more people are going to die before I figure it out!" Lydia's breath hitched in her throat. Owen whimpered, feeling her distress. She forced herself to swallow down her panic. "I've been poring over the bestiary but so far I haven't found anything of use." Peter's palm was warm and soothing, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. The kiss they shared earlier still affected her. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "I was so afraid we were going to lose Owen tonight…"

"I would never let that happen, Lydia," Peter soothed. "Even if I had to tear that woman's spine out through her nose…he's ours and I won't let anyone take him away." Leaning in, he gingerly smoothed the white-blonde hair that peppered Owen's sweet head. Peter smiled gently, "You should eat before it gets cold."

Lydia flashed Peter a half-smile; she had no doubt he would've killed Mildred Dwyer in a heartbeat given half a chance. It showed significant restraint on his part that she walked out alive…and it didn't escape Lydia's notice. Spearing a bite of egg, she chewed thoughtfully. "Despite the upheaval of the afternoon, it was nice to have Derek and Malia here."

"I don't know how you managed that but…thank you." Emotion swirled in Peter's chest as he gazed over at Lydia. Thus far, Malia had mostly avoided him since she found out he was her father. Undoubtedly Stiles was poisoning her against him; that came with the territory. Scott and his pack had every reason to mistrust him…Lydia most of all. Yet here she was in his home, holding the child they'd claimed as their own, and things were comfortable. For the first time, perhaps in his entire life, he was happy…but in true Peter fashion, he wanted more. Their near kiss earlier still tormented him. He yearned to slip his hand up her thigh and stroke her until she begged. Things were still very tense between them. Peter was well aware that he needed to take things slow.

Psychic abilities were not necessary to know what Peter was thinking. His lust was written all over his face. She'd be lying if she said Peter didn't affect her too. It was just not the right moment… Lydia shifted in her seat, crossing her legs tightly. "Up until now, Malia has only heard one side of the story. I thought it was time she gets a chance to form her own opinion." She replied. "Malia wants to know her family and where she came from. She just needed someone to present her with the opportunity where she felt safe." A smile ghosted over her lips, "I think now that she sees what life is like here, she'll come around more often. Plus, she adores Owen."

"I never expected it…" Peter's voice came out as a hushed whisper.

"Sometimes things happen when we least expect them to…" Lydia realized, as she sat here with Peter, that she meant more than Malia. Peter was so close to her right now, she could easily lean in and get lost in his eyes. A loud squawk from the baby tore her out of the moment. Now that she'd eaten most of her eggs and a piece of bacon, her hunger was slaked. "It's getting late…I should get Owen ready for bed."

Peter nodded swiftly, "Of course." For a moment there, it almost looked like she wanted him to kiss her. "I'll clean up here," He offered. Besides, there was laundry to be folded too. Busying himself with mundane chores, Peter gazed out the kitchen window into the murky darkness. A zip of lightning illuminated the backyard. For a moment, he thought he saw a figure standing in the foliage but when he blinked again, it was gone. A low growl tore its way from his throat as Peter stalked toward the sliding door off the edge of the den. Sniffing the air several times, he tried to catch a scent…but it was no use. All he could smell was the first few raindrops beginning to fall from the sky and the static in the air.

Lydia changed Owen's diaper again before she slipped him into a warmer pair of pajamas. Gooseflesh rose over her skin, causing her to shiver. Peering out, she caught sight of Peter standing in the rain and her eyebrows furrowed. Gently, she kissed Owen's head and slipped the blanket up around his belly to keep him warm. Lydia swiftly moved back downstairs, standing in the doorway. A boom of thunder rattled through her as she cleared her throat, "You shouldn't be out here…" She rubbed her hands together for warmth. Peter's expression worried her. Stepping barefoot onto the patio, she reached for his wrist, "What's wrong?"

"I thought I saw someone in the trees…" Peter didn't want to lie to her about anything. "It must have been my imagination. I can't catch a scent." Lydia touched him chastely yet he was immediately burning with desire."Get back inside. It's raining out here." He pressed a hand against her back as he ushered her inside. Peter made triple sure he locked the doors before he faced her again, "I'm sure it was nothing…"

"When is it ever nothing, Peter?" Lydia frowned markedly.

"Fine," Peter gritted his teeth, "Perhaps it was something. Maybe the killer has come to our door…" He took a step toward her, "All you need to know is that I will always protect you, Lydia."

Lydia's heartbeat kicked up within her chest, desire mixing with annoyance. "I am not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself." She stood toe to toe with him, their bodies just millimeters away from each other. Her head dipped back as she gazed up at him, her cinnamon eyes shimmering with the challenge. She dared him to say otherwise.

"You have been dragged into the darkness because of me." Unable to control himself any longer, Peter wrapped his arm around Lydia's back and tugged her against him. His breath was hot and sweet against her cheek as he bent to whisper into her ear, "I will never stop making up for it, Lydia. _Never_."

This time when Lydia shivered it wasn't from the chill, it was from the heat singing in her veins. Peter could listen to her heartbeat and hear what she was feeling…Lydia, though, she had to rely on her other senses. Resting her palm on his chest, she felt his pulse racing beneath her fingertips. Her head swam and she felt her body loosen as Peter's arms wrapped around her back to steady her. Lydia's hands moved of their own volition, sliding through his hair and tugging his mouth toward hers.

Peter let out an agonizingly low growl as he rested his forehead against hers. "Lydia…" Her name slipped so sweetly from his tongue, "If we start, I don't think I will be able to stop." Her curves molded against his body as if he were made to love her. Everywhere he was hard, she was soft. Primal instinct began to take hold as his arms tightened around her. "Tell me no, Lydia…"

"No…" Lydia peered up at him, defiantly. "I won't." Closing the distance between them, Lydia captured Peter's mouth in a searing kiss. He needed no other encouragement on her part. Peter pushed her back against the counter, her arms snaking up his back. Moaning softly, she reveled in the feeling of his fingertips

Peter was lost in the feel of Lydia. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to let go. The fire had burned his humanity away and left him cold and empty inside. Somehow Lydia rekindled what was lost. He wanted to touch her and for her to touch him. Her skin was silky and smooth, his teeth grazing over the sensitive contour of her neck. Already her hands were tugging at the buckle of his belt, spurning him faster. "Hold on…" Peter's voice was gruff with desire, "Not here."

Lydia opened her mouth to protest but was quickly cut off by Peter sweeping her into his arms and carrying her up the stairs. His bedroom smelled like sunshine and masculinity. As he laid Lydia onto the bed, she couldn't stifle the moan of pleasure that emanated from her throat. Peter pushed her dress up over her waist as he slid his jeans down his hips. Fervently she tugged the v-neck he wore over his head, enjoying the feast of rippling muscles she unearthed.

Now that he was divested of his clothing, it was only fair that she return the favor. Peter grinned predatorily as he undid the zipper of her dress and pulled it over her head. Her pert breasts heaved with each breath she took and he removed the bra that obscured them from his view. Capturing her mouth again, he smiled as she arched against him when he dragged her panties down and tossed them aside. Caressing her cheek, he stilled a moment, "Are you sure?"

"I need you, Peter," Lydia breathed, "Please." Peter needed no further urging; he parted her thighs and slammed in to the hilt. Lydia's head lolled backwards as she tightened around him. Her nails dug into Peter's back, wrenching a moan of pleasure from his lips. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as their kisses grew more fervent. Making love to Peter was everything she ever wanted and nothing she ever knew she needed.

Peter's lust reached a fevered pitch as Lydia tightened around him. He let out a ragged groan as he gave over to pure instinct. With one final stroke, he allowed himself to be swept away. He dampened Lydia's scream of pleasure with another fervent kiss as she gave over to the most intense orgasm of her life. Unable to hold on a moment longer, Peter surrendered. He poured into the heart of her without any thought of the consequences.

Lydia reveled at the warmth of his body against hers. Thunder and lightning rolled around them and the cool rain pattered against the windows. Peter pulled her into his arms, nuzzling her gently as they spooned. She couldn't remember a time where she'd been so very happy.

Peter's voice was soft as he pressed a kiss to the back of her shoulder. "Are you alright?" He murmured. Lydia's heartbeat was strong and regular. There was no pain in her scent or expression; but Peter wasn't worried about her body, he was worried about her heart.

Lydia rolled onto her back to peer into Peter's soft blue eyes, "What kind of question is that?" Her fingertips traced over his chest as she rested her head against his shoulder. "I'm fine. Better than fine…" Lydia succumbed to Peter because she wanted to. He had been in her blood a long time; her attraction to him was not something new. She'd been able to push it aside for any number of reasons: the differences in their age, the fact that her friends thought he was a heartless bastard, the fact that he often _was_ a heartless bastard…

Yet seeing Peter with Owen changed everything drastically. Peter wasn't a monster. He was a man seeking redemption in any way he could. He wrapped her in his arms again and Lydia felt her eyelids drooping. Moments later the piercing shriek of the baby reached her ears and she groaned.

"I'll get him," Peter murmured, kissing her forehead. "You need your sleep…" Owen had just been fed and changed, he was probably just colicky. He slid from the bed, retrieving his boxers before padding into the nursery. Every cell in Peter's body was on alert as fangs and claws erupted at the sight of a dark figure leaning over Owen's crib. "Back away from the baby or I will rip you to pieces…"

The figure turned, eyes flashing a violent shade of red before it lunged and Peter's entire world went black.

* * *

><p><strong>DUN DUN DUNNNNN! <strong>

**Cliffhanger. Yes, I am evil. But I love you all! Your reviews, tweets, tumblr likes and reblogs inspire me to keep writing more for you! This next chapter is a huge one for this fic. I hope you're on the edge of your seats! Keep reviewing and encouraging me if you want more of this fic! It makes a huge difference, believe me! I don't get paid to write this and the motivation is what gets me through when the going gets tough.**

**HUGE shoutout to my amazing beta (and gym buddy) JustVisiting80. I made her watch Teen Wolf and she's getting into it... gotta love the power of peer pressure! She is doing amazing writing of her own so please go check her out! **

**You guys rock! Happy Sunday!**

**-Marina**


	6. Chapter 6

Lydia dressed like the world was on fire. She dashed into the nursery, her mind spinning so violently that she was dizzy. Owen was screaming, his face bright red with anger. Peter had been thrown across the room, blood sluicing down his skin and pooling on the floor. "Please," Lydia begged, moving around the others side of the crib to avoid contact with the angry, snarling man before her, "Don't hurt him. Please, I—"

"Hush…" A gravelly laugh rumbled in his chest as he stepped forward. "You must be Lydia. I've heard an awful lot about you." Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped Peter's blood from his hands. "I don't think we've been properly introduced, love. My name's Deucalion…and I believe you have something that belongs to me." Once more, he turned back to Owen, gently stroking the child's cherubic cheek. The child's cries became harsher, his fists tightening in anger.

Lydia's heart slammed against her chest as she gazed down at the infant. "Stop it! You're scaring him…" The words burst from her lips before she had a chance to think them through. Reaching down, she scooped Owen into her arms, "Shhh…I've got you. It's okay, Owen." The baby was incredibly upset and had worked himself into a frenzy.

If Deucalion was angry that Lydia picked up the child, it didn't show on his face. He stared at her blankly, watching her as she soothed the tiny infant in her arms. Her hand gently rested against the back of Owen's head, her thumb stroking over his wispy blonde hair. As she cradled the infant against her body, he snuggled in to listen to the cadence of her heartbeat. Deucalion could easily hear that it was wild and erratic…she was frightened. He did not blame her for it. Fear was a natural response yet it was doing nothing to calm the babe. "Perhaps I could give it a try?"

Holding Owen tighter, Lydia took a step back from him. "I'm not handing a baby over to a strange man who broke into my house in the middle of the night to beat up Peter and terrify a three week old baby!" Lydia snapped, "Particularly when that same psychopath tried to kill my friends." She frowned markedly.

"Fair enough," Deucalion chuckled, folding his arms over his chest. "Try as you might, you'll never keep him from me, Lydia. I'm not leaving here without my son."

Peter stirred as his wounds began to heal themselves. Owen's desperate crying forced him to his feet. He applied pressure to the wounds in his chest as he staggered back into the nursery, snarling and snapping. Deucalion might be an alpha but Peter was angry as a hornet and ready to rip him limb from limb. "Lydia, get the baby out of here—"

"Stop!" Lydia let out an exasperated cry. "Neither of you are helping the situation!" Owen's screeching had reached a decibel that Lydia was sure was going to blow her eardrums out. "There will be no fighting, no bloodshed, and no more yelling!" She gritted her teeth, "Both of you go downstairs and I will be down when Owen is settled."

Deucalion's expression darkened dangerously, "How am I to trust that you won't abscond with him the moment I leave?" He groused.

"You're a werewolf, aren't you?" Lydia shot back, defiantly. "You'll be able to hear everything that goes on, Deucalion!" She turned to Peter, huffing angrily, "Downstairs! _Now_!"

Anger clawed at Peter's chest as he peered at Lydia. He didn't like this at all…but Lydia was right. Peter wanted Deucalion as far away from Owen as possible and she needed an opportunity to calm the baby. "You heard her," Peter snarled, leading the way. His surprise was palpable as Deucalion passively followed him toward the stairs.

"She's a feisty one, isn't she?" Deucalion chortled. "I like that in a woman…"

"_Shut up_!" Peter growled, glaring murderously at Deucalion. The angry claw marks had begun to heal and Peter tossed on a shirt to cover them. Pulling his jeans on, he took a calming breath. This was going to be unpleasant… Peter folded his arms over his chest. Deucalion stood there as if waiting for hospitality but Peter refused to offer any. Instead, the two men remained in terse silence until Lydia came downstairs twenty minutes later.

Lydia wrapped a sweater that she'd found in Peter's closet tighter around herself. "I finally got Owen back down. He was very upset…" Lydia narrowed her eyes, "That tends to happen when a strange man stands over your bed and starts a fight." She snapped.

"Owen is my son," Deucalion repeated, his hand curling into a fist. "I figured that he should know me instinctively. He is a werewolf, after all."

"You don't know much about babies then," Peter replied curtly. "Children who are born werewolves have some senses but at three weeks old the only thing that Owen knows is who takes care of him. He cannot recall scents the way an adolescent or adult wolf can. And he can't see well enough yet to recognize faces." Peter paused, reading Deucalion's expression as if he were an open book. Shock flooded Peter, momentarily throwing him off guard, "He's never met you…"

Deucalion turned away, his anger bleeding into misery as he stared out the kitchen window. "His mother and I had a…tumultuous affair." The muscle in his jaw ticked angrily, "Roberta was a painter. She was gentle and sweet, altruistic…everything that I am not." His breath hitched in his throat. "I have no delusions that I am a kind or patient man." Bowing his head, Deucalion's claws bit painfully into his palms. "Seven months ago she ran from me. I thought she'd tired of me, of my ways…" Suddenly he turned on his heel, "When I read in the paper she had fallen victim to a serial killer here in Beacon Hills and that she had given birth…I knew it was _my_ child."

Lydia felt weak listening to Deucalion's tale of woe. Peter's arms wrapped around her waist to support her and she took a shaky breath, "Are you absolutely sure that Owen is your son?" Tears burned in the back of her throat. She didn't want to lose this baby, not after how hard she fought to keep him.

Peter remained silent. Deucalion was many things: an alpha who had murdered his own pack, a megalomaniac, and he had attacked Peter in his own home. Yet Peter found himself empathizing with Deucalion's plight nonetheless. Peter, too, had found out he had a child that he didn't know. Malia was nearly grown now but he still wanted to be a part of her life. Owen would need a father to teach him the ways of the world…and Peter knew if the baby were his blood, he wouldn't let anyone in the world take him away.

"As sure as I'm standing here now," Deucalion stated. He squared his shoulders, "You will not keep me from my child or I will tear you both limb from limb."

Lydia shook her head, "If you take the baby now there will be a countrywide manhunt. Your face and Owen's would be plastered on every television news station and bulletin board until they found you." She took a step toward Deucalion. "You can't just walk in here and take a child from a temporary guardian. You'll need to go to the police and let them know that you believe Owen is yours. Once the court establishes paternity, we'll have no choice but to turn him over to you. But you _will_ go through legal channels, Deucalion." Her voice cracked and she turned her face away to hide her tears, "All I want is for Owen to be happy and to grow up with a family who loves him." Unfortunately there was no one on earth who would love this baby more than Lydia; she knew that in her heart and soul. "For right now, Owen is fed, changed, and sleeping peacefully. It would be cruel to disturb him."

Silence hung over the room for a long moment as Deucalion mulled over what Lydia had said. She was right about many things, chief among them the fact that uprooting Owen in the middle of the night would do the child no good. "Fine," Deucalion acquiesced, "I'll be going to the police immediately." There would be a paternity test but shortly thereafter, he would have his son. He expected to feel vindicated but seeing the devastation on Lydia and Peter's faces rattled him to his core. "I'll take my leave then."

"One more thing," Peter narrowed his eyes dangerously, "Next time you show up unannounced, I won't be off guard again and I won't hesitate to tear you to shreds." His heart was heavy with grief as he stalked toward the front door, opening it with far more force than was necessary.

Deucalion lingered in the doorway. "In my haste to ascertain the health of my child, I failed to thank you for taking him in. I realize that if not for your kindness, Owen would likely be in a hospital or in a group foster home somewhere." He swallowed his pride like a bitter pill, "I…apologize for my hostility."

"Save it, Deucalion," Peter's voice was low and dangerous. "Owen might be your biological son but I am never going to let anyone or anything hurt him. Especially not you…" Peter was not going to give Owen up without a fight. He'd managed to protect him from the wrath of an angry social worker; a vengeful alpha seemed no less difficult. Lydia's soft sobs would've been undetectable to the human ear but Peter could hear it clear as day and Deucalion could too. Instead of responding, Deucalion disappeared silently into the driving rain. Peter rushed back to Lydia's side. He found her sprawled on the couch, face buried in a pillow. "Lydia…"

Sniffling harshly, Lydia clung tightly to Peter as he dragged her into his arms, "Will it never end?" Her voice trembled with every word. She shook her head, "I can't lose him, Peter. Owen needs me. I happened upon him for a reason, I can feel it in my soul…"

"I already promised you that nobody was going to take him away from us, Lydia." Peter whispered soothingly. Kissing her softly, he could taste her salty tears. He didn't know how long it took before her tears became small, hiccupping sobs. Although he seemed calm on the outside, the beast within burned with rage. Lydia and Owen were his family and his pack, he'd be damned if either of them suffered. Already he'd staked his claim and no one: not the government, not Deucalion, not a serial killing bitch, not even God himself was going to take them away from him. It didn't matter if he had to burn this world to the ground. Nothing and no one was going to ruin what he had here…over his dead body.

* * *

><p>The whirring and beeping of machines turned Sheriff Stilinski's stomach over as he sat at Melissa's bedside. After getting access to the hospital's security cameras, he had them sent over to the station for Parrish to pore over. Right now, he was needed here…no matter how difficult it was.<p>

Watching Melissa lying so still and pale under the harsh fluorescent lights dragged his memory to sitting in this very hospital. Except it wasn't Melissa lying in that bed, it was his wife. Scrubbing a hand over his face, the Sheriff took a sip of coffee that one of the aides had been kind enough to bring him. He'd been keeping vigil over Melissa whenever possible and the staff took pity on him. The Sheriff shifted in his chair, watching the flickering images of violence and destruction on the news. It was on mute but he understood every word…

A low groan dragged the Sheriff out of his silent reverie and he was instantly on his feet. "Melissa?" Her head lolled and he gently caught her face between his hands, "Are you in pain? Can you hear me, Melissa?"

"Is Scott okay?" Melissa's voice was a ragged whisper as she clawed her way back to consciousness. Her first and only thought was of her son. She leaned forward, gasping at the sudden, crushing pain that slammed through her. Melissa covered her abdomen with her hands, feeling the bulky dressings that covered her from her neck to navel. It took every ounce of strength she had to control her breath, "Please, tell me if my son is okay."

The Sheriff grasped her hand tightly to calm her, "Scott is fine. He's at home studying for an algebra test." Immediately he felt Melissa relax. "You've been out for a while, Sleeping Beauty." His lips quirked into a smile, "Let me call the nurse." He reached for the call bell but stilled when Melissa grabbed his wrist.

"No, I'm okay. Don't bother them, they're busy." Melissa urged, taking a shaky breath. "Can I have a sip of water?" Her throat was bone dry. Gratefully she accepted a cup from Sheriff Stilinski and took a hesitant sip. The water was cool and felt heavenly against her parched lips. Leaning back against the bed, she gazed over at him, "It's late. What are you still doing here?"

The Sheriff searched for an answer. He was here because he couldn't bear to be anywhere but by her side…but that was a little bit too much to reveal when she was waking up after a traumatic event such as this. "I stopped by to get the security tapes so that Parrish can look them over." He frowned slightly, "Do you remember anything that happened? Anything at all from the attack?"

Melissa was quiet for a long moment. "It's all kind of a blur…" She spoke slowly, the wheels of her mind turning slowly as she tried to discern reality from fevered dreams. "I was coming home from the late shift. I stopped and picked up takeout because I didn't get a chance to eat and I remember that I had this strange feeling that someone was watching me." Melissa gazed down at her abdomen. "I went into the house and locked the door but the feeling didn't go away. I was grabbing a plate out of the cabinet when I heard this low growling sound. For a minute I thought it was a wild animal that had gotten in but…" She lowered her voice, "It had human features. It was some kind of werewolf looking thing…it…she…" Melissa began to shake, "She started screaming that I had stolen something from her. Then I heard Scott's voice…" Her face scrunched as she gathered the remainder of her strength.

"That's good information," The Sheriff soothed, his hand gingerly brushing dark hair from her pale face. "I didn't want to bombard you with all of this the minute you woke up. I've been so worried about you…" His voice was soft and soothing.

"I'm tougher than I look," Melissa gingerly patted the Sherriff's hand. She exhaled sharply. "There's…something else…" She gazed over at the Sheriff. "I want you to sit down."

Both eyebrows rose as the Sheriff took a seat in the chair beside her bed, "I get the feeling this isn't good news?" He watched the expression on her face mold into a mask of pain, "Melissa we don't need to do this now. You need pain medication and rest. Let me call the nurse. I'll come back in the morning."

Tears burned in Melissa's eyes and clogged her throat, "No, listen to me…" She took a shaky breath, "I don't remember everything because it's all a blur but I thought I knew her. I could have sworn I recognized her voice and her face was animalistic but…it struck me. I just…I can't…"

"Who?" The Sheriff gripped her hand tighter, "Melissa, please…"

"Claudia…" Melissa panted, "I swore it was Claudia." The exhaustion from healing and the overwhelming pain crashed over her as she began to slip out of consciousness again.

The Sheriff was left standing there, stunned and horrified. A year ago he would've dismissed Melissa out of hand but since he'd learned about werewolves, banshees, werecoyotes and nogitsune, he wasn't sure that he could brush this off so easily. Terror ripped through him as he dragged his cell phone out of his pocket. "Parrish? Stop what you're doing and get Judge Hughes on the line. I need an exhumation order immediately…" He swallowed hard, "For Claudia Stilinski. My wife…"

* * *

><p><strong>DUN DUN DUNNN... <strong>

**BIG chapter as far as reveals go. Is Claudia the serial killer? Is Deucalion going to take Owen away? The more reviews, tweets, tumblr likes and PMs I get, the faster you get rewarded with new chapters. Your feedback is vitally important to my creative process so please help a girl out and let me know what you think! You all are awesome. Lots more twists and turns to come!**

**As always, HUGE shoutout to my beta JustVisiting80 who has now been marathoning Teen Wolf and is LOVING IT. Just like I knew she would. She is freaking awesome! Her notes are the best around and her writing is fantastic! Check out her work soon!**

**PS I wrote a little oneshot for another favorite pairing of mine: Coach Finstock and Natalie Martin (Lydia's mom). If you are looking for a fun, quirky little read, please go check out "Second Chance at Forever". You all are great!**

**Love,**

**Marina**


	7. Chapter 7

It took three days before the rusty cogs and wheels of the Beacon Hills justice system slowly began to turn. There was a massive amount of red tape that bureaucracy created, not that Lydia minded. It gave her three more days with Owen; three more days to try and come up with a strategy that would leave her soul intact. She'd been over every scenario a thousands times…but finally, the moment Lydia had been dreading arrived.

Owen got up only twice overnight but Lydia hadn't slept a wink. She lay next to Peter, her stomach churned with the fear that in just a few hours they would have to hand Owen to Deucalion. Undoubtedly, Deucalion would leave Beacon Hills and she would never see her sweet baby again. Her body ached and stung from hiding her sadness from Peter and Owen. At this point there were no more tears left, only the gritty redness that stung and burned her eyes.

The first light of dawn cast shadows on the edge of the bed and Lydia gave up pretending she was going to get any rest. Tiptoeing into the bathroom, she took a hot shower. Afterward, she painted her face with makeup and pasted on a fake smile that was fooling no one. Lydia padded into the nursery to collect Owen, who was just starting to stir. Last night she'd packed up the diaper bag with everything Owen could possibly need: warm clothes, his favorite blanket, enough diapers and wipes to last a few days, an unopened can of formula, a couple of toys, and a tube of diaper rash cream. Lydia had also taken the time to write instructions for Deucalion; she wouldn't chance the alpha werewolf messing up the child's routine. Owen needed stability above all else.

After a quick bath, Lydia changed Owen into one of the adorable outfits that Peter had bought him. Owen whimpered and whined at the coolness of the morning until Lydia snuggled him in a blanket and cradled him against her chest again. Owen chewed on his fist as Lydia grabbed the diaper bag and headed into the kitchen. It was time to give the baby one last bottle…

Lydia hummed softly. Her entire body tensed at the realization that she was not alone. "What are you doing here?"

Malia was sitting on the counter, swinging her legs unabashedly, "I wanted to help…I just don't know exactly how to do that." Malia let out an exasperated sigh, her eyes fixed on Lydia and Owen. Having been a coyote for nine years, she wasn't sure what the protocol was. Stiles hadn't been any help either. He had simply told her to stay out of it…but Malia couldn't stay out of it. Peter was her father, Lydia was pack, and that made Owen family. Malia would do anything for her family.

"Just being here is enough," Lydia continued to smile despite the pain. The façade slipped when Peter padded downstairs, fresh from the shower. His face was just as grim as hers but there was something darker that roiled beneath the surface. Lydia had seen that look before and it could only mean trouble. "Malia, can you finish feeding Owen? I need to talk to Peter _alone_."

Leaping up, Malia slipped Owen from Lydia's arms and nodded at the reminder to support his head. Malia settled down at the table, beaming.

Lydia walked into the other room, grabbed Peter's hand and pulled him outside onto the terrace. Her face was molded into a mask of anger.

"Lydia—"

"I know that look, Peter. That's your 'I'm about to go on a murderous rampage' face!" Lydia cut him off brutally. "I don't want to lose Owen any more than you do…but if Deucalion suddenly goes missing or ends up dead, they will come straight to our doorstep. You know that Sheriff Stilinski is just looking for a reason to lock you in a cell!" Lydia breathed raggedly, "Don't do this, Peter. Please."

Peter's expression darkened, "You were the one crying in my arms that you couldn't lose him Lydia." He watched the anger spread across her features and realized that he'd hit a nerve. "I feel the _exact _same way. Owen may not share my blood but he's mine…_ours _and I won't let anyone take him!" He growled, his fists tightened. "I've lost too many people in my life. I won't lose another one…"

Lydia wrapped her arms around her waist, "How do you think I'll feel when they haul you to jail and take Owen away from me _anyway_? Did you think about that?" She continued speaking without waiting for him to respond, "No! You only think of yourself, Peter." She hollered. "I'm already losing him, I can't lose you too!" Anger replaced sadness as she lunged forward and pushed him hard.

"You're wrong. I do think about other people, Lydia. I do nothing but think of other people!" Peter caught Lydia's arms and held her tight; he bent and kissed her hard to quiet her. He tangled his fingers through the damp strands of her strawberry blonde hair. Lydia's body melted against his and he kept his arm securely around her waist. "I won't be neutralized. I will not stand back and allow the people I care about to suffer. I'm always going to be the villain, sweetheart, you need to get used to that." He cupped her cheek, gazing down at her. Nothing short of death would stop him from fighting for this child.

Visibly deflating, Lydia rested her forehead against his chest for just a moment. "You don't have to be…" She pulled away, slipping back into the house. Owen finished his bottle and she made sure he was settled before placing him into the car seat. He whimpered and whined, his tiny legs kicking in annoyance. Lydia couldn't stomach the thought of eating. Instead, she watched Peter hawkishly as he made coffee for the both of them.

Malia instantly sensed the tension between Lydia and Peter, her teeth set on edge as she circled the table, crouching over where Owen was fussing. She looked up, her fingers brushing over the baby's wispy hair. "He doesn't like when you fight…"

"We aren't fighting," Peter replied curtly. "We are merely having a disagreement." He almost felt guilty at the way Lydia flinched, as if she'd been struck.

"That's the same thing as fighting," Malia huffed and let Owen grab her finger tightly. She smiled lovingly at the baby before glaring at Peter again. "So cut it out."

Peter met Malia's glare with an amused grin. There was no question at all that this girl shared his blood…

It struck Lydia how similar Peter and Malia were, despite not being in each other's lives until recently. They both possessed a snarkiness that shined through, even in the darkest moments. Lydia quietly accepted the mug of coffee Peter prepared for her. Their fingers brushed and she lingered for just a moment before she pulled away, "We need to go. I won't risk being late."

Peter nodded and carried Owen and the car seat into the garage. Malia grabbed the diaper bag and hopped into the back to sit beside the baby. Once Owen was all buckled in, she finally settled. Lydia climbed into the front seat, silent and stoic. Peter could tell that Lydia was nervous by the way she kept smoothing invisible wrinkles on her dress. The trip to Beacon Hills Police Department seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Sheriff Stilinski recommended they have backup in the event that the proceedings got rough…

Lydia slipped from the car first. She carefully removed Owen from the car seat and cuddled him close; she cast a dangerous look at Peter as if daring him to take the child from her. Instead, Peter opened the car door for Malia and took the diaper bag from her. Lydia was steps from the door when Derek gripped the handle and tugged it open for her. She flashed him a grateful smile but felt unable to speak through the lump in her throat. It was one thing for Malia to show support but for Derek it was quite another. His presence was very meaningful to Lydia and she could tell by the look on Peter's fact that it was for him too.

Deucalion was already standing in the hallway with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He stood back to admit Lydia into the interrogation room they'd commandeered for the morning. His eyes remained on the child, never breaking contact as he followed her into the room.

Mildred Dwyer sat at the head of the table, her expression sour and scrunched. She looked up, her inky black eyes filled with malice. "We'll begin the proceedings in five minutes," She allowed her glasses to fall back onto her chest as she took a sip of tea. There was no compassion at all in her expression as she removed the files from her briefcase and occasionally glanced at the assembled individuals.

Anger clawed at Peter's gut and twisted him up. Derek and Malia flanked Peter on both sides as if expecting him to lose control at any moment. Thankfully Owen remained peaceful and comfortable, his fist curled around a strand of Lydia's strawberry blonde hair. Deucalion remained terse and silent, his fingers laced. The longest five minutes of their lives passed agonizingly slowly…

Mildred sat back in her chair, glasses replaced on her face. "The Department of Social Services has reviewed this case carefully," She began, her chilly gaze sweeping over each of them. "The court has determined that Deucalion is the biological father of Owen Michael Harris."

Lydia's eyes fluttered shut. The last hope they had was torn away violently and without mercy…Deucalion was Owen's father. They had lost.

"However," Mildred pressed, "Given the fact that Deucalion has no permanent residence or income to speak of, coupled with the fact that he was estranged from Roberta for months before she gave birth, it has been decided by the court that it is in the best interest of this child that he remain in the custody of Peter Hale for the time being."

Lydia couldn't contain her gasp of surprise. Peter gripped her shoulder, unable to process everything that had just happened. Chaos erupted as Deucalion stood, slamming his fist down on the desk. "I will _not_ be kept from my son!" He growled, his eyes glowing red with violent rage.

Mildred stared down her nose at him and issued one sharp command, "_Sit_!" She tightened her fist; the power that coursed from her did indeed force Deucalion back into his seat. The smell of electricity was thick in the air as she leaned in, the magic flowing through her and sparking in her onyx eyes, "I will not be intimidated." She frowned deeper, "You will be allowed supervised visitation with the child only at the discretion of Mr. Hale."

Surprise stole over Peter's features as he realized that Mildred knew damn well that they were not boring, private citizens of Beacon Hills. In this room alone there was a werecoyote, an alpha werewolf, a former alpha werewolf, a man who could fully shift into the form of a wolf, and a banshee. Oh, and a social worker who practiced magic on the side. Malia raised both her eyebrows, leaning in closer to Peter, "I knew she was a witch."

"We prefer the term druid, Ms. Hale," Mildred replied sharply. "This is the final word of the California Department of Social Services. We will revisit this topic in a month's time." She faced Deucalion again, "In the meantime, I suggest you set up a permanent residence and ensure you have sought counseling for your anger management issues."

Peter choked down a laugh at the look on Deucalion's face as Mildred shut her briefcase and strode out of the police station with her head held high.

Lydia stood and Peter enveloped her and the baby in his arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she cradled both of them close. She kissed Peter gently, her heart feeling as if it had shattered into a million shards and then been pieced back together again. Owen let out a tiny sigh, snuggling deeper against Lydia's shoulder. Malia nudged Derek, causing a smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. Justice had prevailed today.

While the Hales celebrated, Deucalion sulked in the corner. Owen was _his_ son… He briefly wondered if this was karmic retribution for all the wrong he had done in his life. Swallowing back the anger that threatened to tear him apart, Deucalion's clawed fingertips dug into the desk, "Yes, congratulations. You should be quite proud of yourselves for keeping a child from his father." He growled.

Derek crept forward, ready to intercede if Deucalion lashed out. Peter too was standing at the ready, shepherding Lydia behind him. "We aren't keeping him from you," Lydia refused to remain silent. "You heard what the social worker said. You need a home and a support system and right now, you don't have either one. It takes more than blood to be a parent."

"I'm sorry, love, but I'm not going to take advice from an eighteen year old banshee playing house with a notorious psychopath and the wreckage of his broken family." Deucalion's claws dug deeper into the desk although his expression did not change.

"We're not broken," Malia snarled. "Twisted, maybe. Definitely weird… but not broken." Derek lunged for her but Malia was too fast; he wanted to stop her from agitating Deucalion any further. Unfortunately, Malia was just getting started. She stood directly in front of Deucalion, poking her finger into his chest. "Stiles told me that you hurt Derek, Scott, Peter…pretty much everyone I care about." She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going to let you do the same thing to Owen. Mark my words, Deucalion, I'm not the only person in this room willing to fight to protect it…" Malia quickly fixed the pronoun, "_Him_."

"You are your father's daughter…" Deucalion chuckled derisively. He removed one clawed hand from the desk, circling Malia. "Perhaps he didn't tell you that I was the one who rescued Peter and Derek from the Calaveras. I paid a king's ransom to bring them home. I am not all bad, dearest."

"You paid to bring Derek home," Peter interjected. "And for that fact alone, I haven't ripped you to pieces yet. But if you lay one hand on my daughter, I'll see to it that you never see your son again. He'll never even know your name…"

Owen let out a wail of displeasure and Lydia sighed. "I am sick of all this fighting and you don't have to be psychic to know that Owen is too." Circumventing the desk, Lydia sent Malia to stand beside Derek again and gave Peter a warning glare. "It's occurred to me that you've never held your own child. You're right that it isn't fair…"

"Lydia!" Peter snarled.

Lydia whirled to glare at Peter, her strawberry blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. She nudged the chair with her leg, motioning for Deucalion to take a seat. Much to the surprise of everyone present, he sat eagerly and obediently. Lydia pressed a tender kiss to Owen's temple before she leaned in and slipped the infant into Deucalion's waiting arms. At first the baby fussed but after a few seconds, he settled in and snuggled into his father's chest.

Deucalion did nothing to hide the tears burning in his eyes. "He's heavier than I expected…" But he was perfect: ten tiny fingers, red rosebud lips, brilliant blue eyes, and wispy white-blonde hair.

"That's exactly what I said!" Malia exclaimed.

Lydia chuckled but Peter stared at her incredulously. Moving to his side, she stood toe to toe with him. "I know you're angry…"

"Angry?" Peter hissed, "Angry doesn't even begin to cover it, sweetheart. You handed Owen over to a madman!" He snarled, "What's to stop him from standing up and walking out of here with the baby?"

"Two werewolves, a werecoyote, and the entire Beacon Hills police force?" Lydia countered. "Look at him…" She motioned to where Deucalion was seated, staring down at the child in awe. "How would you feel if you knew that Malia was your daughter and yet you were kept from her? You could sit in the very same room and not even talk to her?" She frowned, "I love Owen more than I've ever loved anything on this earth. I want to protect him and care for him. I know you want that too…but we can't keep a father from his child. Owen would resent us forever."

Peter took a shaky breath. Damn it if Lydia wasn't right. Cupping her cheek gently, he sighed. "I suppose you're going to suggest that we allow Deucalion to have all the visitation he wants…"

"Within reason." Lydia caught Deucalion's gaze from across the room. They were in a small space, werewolf hearing aside. There was no question that Deucalion heard everything she was saying. "No more middle of the night surprises, okay?" She peered over at Derek, "And if I'm not around, I'm going to need you to act as a buffer."

Derek shook his head fervently, "Me? Why me? I don't want to babysit my uncle and Deucalion. I'll watch Owen all you want but _not _these two!"

"You're strong, you're not in school, and you don't need to work. What exactly is it you _do_ all day?" Lydia probed.

"Mostly badger Scott and Stiles," Malia piped up. "I'll watch Peter and Deucalion!

"No!" Lydia and Derek replied in unison.

Lydia put her hands on her hips. "You have school, Malia. You want to do well so that you can graduate with Stiles, right?" Malia visibly deflated and Lydia knew she won the argument. "Speaking of which, you should find Stiles and get studying. You may have passed the algebra test but that doesn't mean you can slack off. Did you do the homework yet?"

Malia opened her mouth to protest but Lydia's look quickly shut it down. She slunk toward the door. "Fine…" She grumbled, "Can Stiles come over to meet Owen later?"

"No," Peter interjected.

"Yes," Lydia countered, folding her arms over her chest. Narrowing her eyes, she entered into a silent of battle of wills. Peter moved forward, his cobalt eyes flashing dangerously that it was _his_ house and _his_ rules. Lydia matched that look with one of her own that very clearly notified him that if he continued to argue he wouldn't be seeing her naked again for a very long time.

Peter let out an exasperated sigh, "_Fine_."

Beaming triumphantly, Malia skipped from the room. Lydia turned back to Derek. "As for you…I can't trust Peter and Deucalion alone in a room together. For Owen's sake, I need you to do this for me."

"Hey," Peter frowned.

Derek folded his arms over his chest, "If I must." He held back his smile when Lydia stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Derek ignored Peter's glare and headed for the door, "Just call me and I'll be there."

Peter and Lydia remained in the interrogation room with Deucalion. Owen was getting fussier by the moment. "He's getting hungry. We need to get the baby home, Deucalion," Lydia said gently.

Reluctantly, Deucalion stood and eased Owen back into Lydia's arms. "I want to thank you. You have shown far more kindness than I deserve." He swallowed hard. It was incredibly difficult for Deucalion to admit Owen was in good hands. Lydia reminded him so much of Roberta that his chest ached. Perhaps if he'd been kinder, perhaps if he'd been willing to bend, Roberta never would have run from him and he wouldn't be in this position. "I hope that you will allow me to visit my child again soon…" That statement was directed solely at Peter.

A large part of Peter wanted to send Deucalion back to whatever hole he'd crawled out of…but Lydia had made several valid points. He wouldn't want to be kept from his child by anyone. He also enjoyed Lydia's company and her body; to be deprived of both was simply not an option. "It seems we're having Malia and her boyfriend over this evening. I don't see why you can't sit down to dinner with us."

Deucalion nodded his assent, "Thank you." He took a deep breath. It took all the strength he'd gathered and left the room without another word.

"That was big of you, Peter," Lydia smiled happily, snuggling Owen closer to her chest. Peter's hand found its way to her waist as they headed out through the station. Lydia was seconds away from leaving the station when she heard Parrish holler her name. She turned and instantly knew that there had been another murder, it was written all over his face. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, "When?"

"Just now," Parrish was dragging his deputy jacket on. "It happened in broad daylight…three witnesses said that they saw a woman who looked like a beast come out of the woods. She pounced and stopped the car in the middle of the freeway. The Sheriff's already en route but he wanted me to tell you so you wouldn't hear it on the news…"

Lydia's heart was thundering in her chest. She took a shaky breath, "Jordan…just spit it out." Peter's grip tightened on her as he sensed her fear and she was grateful for the contact. It should have been devastating, the words Parrish spoke next—except Lydia already knew…

"I'm really sorry, Lydia," Parrish's voice was soft and kind. He laid a hand on her shoulder. "The victim was Natalie Martin. Your mother…"

Peter immediately plucked Owen from her arms, wrapping his free arm around her waist as she sagged. Lydia's consciousness waned. She heard Peter barking orders at Parrish, demanding an ambulance. Little by little, the world faded to black and Lydia succumbed to the void.

* * *

><p><strong>Finally! A new WMF chapter! My muse was suffering guys, thanks for hanging in. Your reviews, tweets, tumblrs and PMs really make all the difference. If I get positive reviews and you're telling me what you like, you get chapters faster. Please keep letting me know! It helps me focus and process things better... and I know how to keep ya'll happy!<strong>

**I'm very proud to announce my beta JustVisiting80 has watched all the episodes of Teen Wolf now and while she may not be as obsessed as I am, she has been such a good sport. She's the best ever and I love her to pieces! She got these edits to me SUPER LIGHTNING FAST so I could get the chapter out to you! YAY JOSEPHINE! YAAAY!**

**Please, if you want more of this story, keep letting me know. My muse is being tricky right now and every little bit counts. Thanks so much for all your support!**

**-Marina**


	8. Chapter 8

"Malia, poking her repeatedly isn't going to make her wake up any faster." Peter's exasperated voice broke through the tension-filled silence. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance.

"You don't know that…" Malia groused. Peter paced the length of the floor, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Although initially he'd demanded Lydia be taken to a hospital, it had been decided that the best place for her was at home, surrounded by friends and family. Parrish had basic field medic training and Peter allowed him to check Lydia over. After a few minutes, Jordan declared Lydia's temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, and reflexes were all normal. Therefore her response to the news of Natalie Martin's death was purely psychological. She needed comfort, not medicine.

"I never took her for a fainter." Derek's voice remained level and his expression did not change. "Screamer, sure…"

"_Watch it_," Peter growled.

"Are you sure we shouldn't call a real doctor? She's been out for over two hours." Stiles chewed his thumbnail as he leaned over, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. At least Lydia didn't seem to be in any acute distress. She looked peaceful. "Maybe we should call Scott. He could use his alpha powers to snap her out of it or something…"

Peter scoffed, "I'm sure Scott is staying close to his mother right now. She needs him far more than we do." As the only victim that the killer hadn't actually murdered, Melissa's life hung in the balance. The Sheriff had a guard posted outside her door at all times but they all knew damn well that no rent-a-cop was going to be able to stop this unhinged bitch. Scott kept constant vigil over his mother, it was the one that Peter truly respected about him: family loyalty.

"You just don't want to call Scott," Derek huffed.

"Well, that too," Peter acquiesced. He saw no reason to lie; it was no secret that he cared little for the true alpha and his collection of freaks and geeks. Peter Hale cared about his family, Owen, and about Lydia. Beyond that, he was content to let the rest of the world go down in flames. It was bad enough Stiles was here and couldn't seem to keep his paws off Malia; dealing with Scott would be too much to ask right now. "We don't need McCall. Lydia will come around when she's ready…"

Malia plopped down on the bed beside Lydia, jostling the unconscious girl. "Do we have to wait for her to eat dinner? I'm so hungry I could eat a whole deer by myself." She cocked her head to the side when Stiles flashed her a look. "It's not okay to be hungry?"

Stiles wrapped an arm around Malia's shoulders, "This is a sensitive situation. Remember how we talked about showing compassion?" Stiles looked up and caught Peter's murderous gaze. Nervously he inched away from Malia, placing his hands in his lap and lacing his fingers tightly.

The sight of Stiles and Malia burned a hole in Peter's gut. Malia clearly noticed that Stiles moved away from her because Peter was putting on his very best angry father face…so she snuggled closer to Stiles, her head resting on his shoulder. Letting out a low growl, Peter stepped forward. His movements were halted by Derek clasping his shoulder and holding tight. Claws erupted from Peter's fingertips as he turned, snarling. Derek's eyes were blue and his fangs glimmered in the low light of the bedroom. The scent of violence rose as Derek and Peter circled each other. Malia stood, ready to join the fray, but Stiles gripped her wrist and tugged her back.

The thunderous tone of the doorbell broke the spell. Peter stood up straighter. Derek stepped back. "I'll get it!" Malia announced, pulling Stiles with her as she trotted toward the door. They were almost certainly saved by the bell…

Now that they were alone, Derek folded his arms, "I know you're on edge but you need to cool it!" He exhaled sharply, "You're worried about Lydia. We all are…but picking fights won't do anyone any good. Malia was right, we all need something to eat and you need to take a deep breath." Derek's angry expression softened slightly as he moved toward Peter again, "As for Stiles, if you try and pull them apart they're only going to cling tighter to each other. Has the past really taught you nothing?"

Peter was quiet for a long moment. He sighed as he gazed over at Lydia; she looked so small and fragile beneath the cream colored duvet. Derek's points were valid. Peter hadn't eaten anything today and it was doing nothing to help his mood. As for Stiles and Malia, Peter would never be a fan of their relationship…but Stiles clearly cared for Malia deeply. Stiles was patient and kind, even though Malia could be wild and impulsive at times. Peter wanted to protect his daughter from any and all heartache, especially the kind that would come from falling in love with a spastic human boy who was forever putting himself in danger. Of course, Peter would admit none of that. He was almost relieved when Owen's whimpering cries reached his ears…

"Perfect timing," Derek snarked sarcastically. Peter padded into the nursery to check on Owen and Derek headed downstairs. The scent of Chinese food mingled with Deucalion's unique musk. Malia and Stiles were sitting on the opposite side of the kitchen, ignoring the alpha werewolf's presence. Derek remained stoic and stone-faced, "I guess nobody told you the party was off…"

"Malia just informed me that Lydia's mother was murdered. I was unaware." Deucalion cleared his throat. "I understand this is not the best of circumstances but I would really like to spend time with my son."

"He brought food," Malia piped up, speaking through a mouthful of chicken. "He can stay."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Deucalion grinned. Peter wasn't going to argue with Malia. Derek shrugged, "Make yourself at home then. Owen just woke up from his nap. I'm sure he and Peter will be down soon."

As if on cue, Peter descended the stairs with Owen in his arms. Peter groaned softly at the sight of Deucalion perched awkwardly on a kitchen chair. In the calamity of the last few hours, he'd forgotten to disinvite Deucalion to the world's most awkward dinner party."I am in no mood for fighting. Here…" Peter stalked over to Deucalion and, despite his annoyance, placed Owen into Deucalion's arms gently while he went to make up a bottle.

Deucalion wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He thanked Peter silently, taking the proffered bottle when it was handed to him. Owen's tiny fist wrapped tight around Deucalion's soft sweater as he hungrily ate his supper. Deucalion gazed up at the family, taking in the sight of them as they orbited around each other listlessly. Malia kept Stiles behind her at all times, ever vigilant in case someone tried to mess with her boyfriend. Derek was sitting on the couch in the den off the kitchen, watching Peter pace like a caged animal. It was no secret that Lydia was the glue that kept them all functioning. And right now, the queen was nowhere to be found.

"I _still_ think we should call Scott…" Derek folded his arms.

"And I told you, we don't need the boy wonder," Peter scoffed. "If it's an alpha we need, there's one sitting in my kitchen."

Deucalion stood, balancing Owen in his arms. His expression darkened with concern. "Has Lydia taken ill?"

Peter's fist tightened angrily. He was silent a moment, watching Deucalion and Owen standing in the doorway to the den. Already it burned in his soul that Deucalion was trying to take Owen away from him but adding in the fact that he possessed a power that could possibly heal Lydia, Peter was skating on the razor's edge. Without Lydia to temper him, his rage was growing and it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

Malia trotted into the living room, plopping down beside Peter. "After Lydia found out about her mother, she passed out and hasn't woken up since." Peter's posture was tensed and his cobalt eyes sparked with angry fire. Malia knew that her role in this was to diffuse the situation. "I will finish feeding Owen and you can go fix Lydia."

Hesitantly, Deucalion settled Owen in Malia's arms. Silently, he turned to Peter, "I owe you a great debt. Not only for caring for Owen in my absence but also for allowing me to have contact with him even though you are in no way obligated to. The very least I can do is determine if I can help Lydia." Deucalion could count on one hand the people he respected and Lydia ranked at the top of that list. He was well aware that Peter would never have allowed visitation if Lydia hadn't commanded it. On any given day, he'd let all of them rot but for Owen's sake; he'd do anything at all to make this work. "I will do everything in my power—"

"Enough with the speeches," Peter growled. "I'll take you to her."Leading Deucalion upstairs, Peter opened the door to the guest room. Lydia had not moved a muscle since he left her side; her strawberry blonde hair fanned out over the pillow as she slumbered. Her body was ethereally pale, as if all the blood had been leeched from her. "I tried to take her pain but she does not appear to be in any, at least physically. We tried smelling salts, music, and Malia poked her for nearly an hour. There's nothing left to be done…"

Deucalion padded toward the bed and grasped Lydia's wrist. He hissed at the unexpected temperature of her skin, "Her hands are like ice."

Peter brushed past him, pressing a hand to Lydia's cheek. Despite being wrapped up in a blanket, her whole body was cool to the touch. "She wasn't this cold before." Panic clawed at him as he stared hard at Deucalion, "Do whatever you have to. I don't care what it takes!" He was starting to understand how Lydia felt this morning…he couldn't lose Owen and Lydia too, he couldn't survive it.

Pushing up the sleeves of his sweater, Deucalion sat down on the bed. "Stand back…" His eyes flashed red with power as he leaned over the bed. This would most certainly be incredibly painful and dangerous but Deucalion knew what he had to do… for all their sakes.

* * *

><p>"Lydia!"<p>

The sharp voice wrenched Lydia out of a trance as she turned a little too quickly and her vision blurred. "Mom?" Lydia called, her voice shaky and weak. Shivering against the cold, Lydia rubbed the gooseflesh that covered her skin. She exhaled sharply, her breath coming out as a soft white cloud as she headed toward the clearing.

Beacon Hills slumbered silently below her. Lydia recognized her surroundings instantly. Lookout Point was one of her favorite places to map the stars; it was also one of Jackson's favorite places to make out. Snow crunched beneath her bare feet as she padded toward the darkness of the forest. Thick, fat flakes fell around her as she squinted, her eyes glassy with frozen, unshed tears. As she drew closer, there was a murmuring of voices just out of reach. "Mom?" Lydia called again.

A loud roll of thunder rocked the earth and Lydia nearly pitched over. She grasped for something, _anything_, and found a pair of bloody hands cinching her waist. Lydia screamed, wrenching back from the thin, willowy girl who stood in front of her.

"Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you…"

"Y-you're Angela. Angela Zhou?" The serial killer's third victim was an eighteen-year-old Asian girl who had her life ahead of her. Lydia stumbled across her remains in the park, twisted and shredded. Unlike the corpse that Lydia remembered, this girl's eyes were bright and shining with emotion. "You're dead…"

"We're all dead." Angela's voice was soft and soothing. "We are running out of time…come with me."

Lydia had very little choice in the matter. She was inexplicably pulled forward toward a circle of women. They were all present: Angela Zhou, Erin Walchyk, Taryn Carlisle, Diana Moore, Kaylee Verbeek, Roberta Harris, and Natalie Martin. Tears burned in Lydia's eyes as she staggered into the center of the circle, her chest aching as she took in the horror all around her. Each of the women had been slashed and their bodies destroyed; yet they looked calm and peaceful. "Am I—"

Natalie sensed Lydia's distress and stepped forward, cupping Lydia's cheek. "No, sweetheart, you have a long life ahead of you." She let out a shaky breath, "Diana has told us that this is a part of your power. She's a banshee, like you…"

"Mom, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't know how, I didn't know if you'd believe me." Lydia wept, clinging tightly to her mother. Instead of being comforted by a warm embrace, the temperature seemed to drop even lower. Natalie's warm eyes were bright with tears as she shook her head, eager to assuage Lydia's fears and regrets when an anxious voice broke into their tender moment.

"I'm sorry but there is no time," Diana cut in, harshly. "Lydia, we are stuck between worlds until the killer is dead. She has disrupted the balance. In death I finally understand we—as banshees— are gatekeepers between Elysium and Hades. I was frequently visited by spirits that would lead me to the dead. I would wake up in strange places, terrified, unsure as to how I even came to be in this place. I know now that I was being drawn to these souls to help them pass into the afterlife. You, too, have experienced this I am sure."

Lydia shivered harder and nodded numbly, allowing Diana to continue her explanation. "This killer was not always so cruel. She was once a fine wife and mother, adored and loved by all who knew her. It was truly unfair when her brain began to atrophy and die, leaving her a shell of herself. She was moments from death when a woman offered to heal her, with one condition. She swore to leave her husband and son behind…" Diana faltered. "The werewolf bite seemed to work, at least it did at first. Yet her mind began to fray around the edges. For years she was able to control her impulses and her rage but time is not on her side. Her memories of the present are almost all gone. All she can remember is Beacon Hills, regret, and the urge to kill. She wants it to end, Lydia…every time she kills a mother, she is in essence killing herself. Except the agony cannot stop until she is resting in the ground. It cannot end for any of us…"

The emotion swirling inside Lydia was so overwhelming that she felt she would vomit. Her stomach churned and her head ached as she drew in a ragged breath. "We're doing everything we can to find her. I'm trying so hard to harness my power. I-I just don't know how…"

Diana stepped forward, her ghastly face softened with a smile. "I wish I could tell you all the secrets. If only we had the time…" An icy wind was ripping through the trees, blowing Lydia's brittle body as if she were one of the snowflakes dancing in the air. "Focus on her name, on her rage, and you will be able to track her."

"Wait! I don't know her name," Lydia pressed. The snow was falling so heavily around her now that she could hardly see. The cold was too much for her to bear now and she had gone completely numb. "Tell me, please. I need to find her. I need to end this once and for all."

"Claudia." Diana replied, "The killer's name is Claudia." The world around them was falling, pulling Lydia further away from the fold. She had overstayed her welcome and if she did not leave soon, she would be trapped among these women forever. "We've run out of time, Lydia. You have to go back!"

Lydia whimpered, "I don't know how!"

Roberta Harris broke from her place in the circle and stepped forward. Her warm, calming presence seemed to shelter Lydia from the elements for a moment. Leaning in, she whispered in Lydia's ear with a voice so soft and melodious that Lydia almost wept.

Lydia hugged Roberta tight, her eyes sparkling with unshed years, "I promise, Roberta. I swear it on my life…"

A light pierced though the storm raging around her and Lydia turn and ran toward it, her bare feet cut against the icy blanket of snow beneath. The murmurs of voices and the sound of Owen's plaintive cries dragged her closer to life beyond the veil. Reaching out, she leapt and moments later found herself crumpled on the floor, dry heaving so violently that she feared she would break in half.

"Lydia!" Peter's voice was hoarse from screaming her name. Deucalion was limp and weak on the bed, having expended massive energy pulling her back. At one point, Lydia's heart had stopped and Peter thought he had lost her for good. Slowly her body was warming, from the exertion of her illness and the heat of his body radiating against hers. "Lydia, please…"

"I'm okay," Lydia replied weakly. "I was in a strange place, stuck between worlds. And it was so very cold…" Peter's hands wrapped around hers and she was grateful. The iciness of her fingers was almost painful. "They were there. _All_ of them were there!"

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion, "_Who_, Lydia…who was there?"

"My mother, Diana, Erin, Kaylee, Angela, Taryn…Roberta…" Lydia's eyes were bloodshot and damp with tears. She watched as Deucalion's muscles clenched painfully at the sound of Roberta's name.

Peter lifted Lydia from the floor and carefully rested her against the bed. "They are stuck between worlds until balance is restored. I need to find the killer and I need to kill her before the rest of them can move on." She swallowed. "I think I know how to find her. Diana said once I knew her name I could find her." Leaning back in bed, she let out a shaky breath, "I need Owen. Please…"

Gingerly, Peter stroked Lydia's cheek to calm her. Malia, Stiles, and Derek—who had been drawn by the commotion—stayed by the doorway. Peter stepped forward and took the child from Malia, settling the baby in Lydia's arms. Immediately he watched the color return to Lydia's cheeks as Owen's angry screams dissipated into soft whimpers and then he fell asleep, curled against her chest.

"Owen brought me back," Lydia murmured softly, rubbing the infant's back as he breathed against her. Smoothing his wispy blonde hair, she sighed, "It was Roberta who told me to focus on the cries of my child and that he would pull me home…" Her gaze wandered to where Deucalion was sitting, head cradled in his hands. There were a few things more Roberta wanted Lydia to tell Deucalion but now was not the time. "The killer is going to strike again soon and we need to find her."

"You said you needed to know her name…we still don't know." This time, Stiles was the one who spoke. "My dad has been working tirelessly but no luck yet."

Lydia nodded, "I know her name. It's Claudia…"

"Claudia?" Stiles raised an eyebrow, his throat suddenly becoming dry. "That was my mother's name." Deafening silence emanated through the room as he watched Lydia's face crumple and fall. "Wait…what are you saying, Lydia? My mother is dead!"

Holding Owen closer to her chest, Lydia didn't realize she needed Peter until his arm wrapped around her waist. "Stiles, I'm sorry…"

Stiles felt panic begin to claw at his chest, "It can't be. I was there when she died. The doctor came in and…I…"

Malia's face was twisted into a frown. She reached out to comfort Stiles but he wrenched away from her. The pain in her expression was palpable…it made Peter grit his teeth. "Stiles—"

"No!" Stiles's thundering footsteps clomped down the stairs and a minute later, his jeep took off recklessly into the night. His departure left a massive void in the room.

Derek grabbed Malia as she turned to chase him, "Come on, we'll follow at a safe distance." He peered over at Lydia. "You're absolutely sure about this? You know his mother is the one wasting mothers all over town?"

Lydia nodded sadly, holding the baby tighter against her body. "Please make sure he's okay, Derek," She begged. Although Derek didn't say a word, Lydia knew he would. Malia would help too. They were gone quickly, leaving Peter and Deucalion alone with her and Owen. She gazed between them, "I am going to find this killer and when I do, I'm going to need your help; _both_ of you." She swallowed hard. "I need to be the one to kill her and carry her soul to the other side."

Deucalion scoffed, "And why on earth do you think I will help you? I am here for Owen and nothing more." He shook his head, "I played nice. I brought you back from the brink, Lydia, but do not mistake my act of charity for caring whether you live or die. I am here for my son, only."

Peter's expression turned murderous but Lydia reached out an arm to soothe him. "I need some water, please…" Lydia urged and Peter balked. "Trust me, Peter!" She pressed, "Five minutes…"

Although his heart was hammering in his chest, Peter did as Lydia asked. It took every ounce of strength he had to walk out of the room and close the door behind him. Deucalion turned, his face blank. "There is nothing you can say to change my mind…"

"I'm not going to say anything," Lydia replied softly. "I would rather let Roberta speak. You see, she stole a few seconds with me and I made her a promise." She licked her lips. "I made her a promise that I would raise Owen as my son. I—"

"Stop right there." Deucalion snarled, cutting her off. "I have been all too willing to play along for a chance to spend time with my son but I will not accept this." He snapped. "He is my blood, Lydia! You are young and stupid."

Slipping from the bed, Lydia stood on shaky legs. "Deucalion, do you remember Paris?" She watched the color drain from his face. "Do you remember what you said? How you cried?"

"No…" Deucalion glowered, his fists tightening painfully.

"Roberta asked you if you wished to be a father, Deucalion." Lydia cradled Owen closer to her chest. "Do you remember what you said?" She repeated.

"I told her I would do anything for my line to end with me. But I didn't know then what I know now!" His voice was strained and tight with emotion. "I didn't know what having a son would mean to me." Owen was the only part of Roberta he had left.

Lydia closed the distance between them, her hand resting on his shoulder. "When she touched me, I communicated with her on a deep level, Deucalion. Roberta wanted you to know that she loved you deeply. She could not bear to betray you but she also wanted a child more than anything in the world. She ran from you only to keep you from feeling obligated."

Hot tears burned down Deucalion's cheeks as he gripped Lydia tightly. "How could she think that I wouldn't want her and the child? The way I grew up, I…"

"I know," Lydia murmured. In the stark cold wasteland where she had been stuck, everything was hauntingly clear while remaining shrouded in mystery. It was the oddest experience of her life. "I will never keep you from Owen, Deucalion. You're his father, no one can take that from you…but if this is going to work, we—all of us—need to start acting like a family."

Gazing at Lydia and Owen, Deucalion cleared his throat, "Family?"

"Yes. Derek, Malia, Stiles, Peter, Owen, you and me, we're a family whether we like it or not. It's going to take all of us to take this killer down. It's also going to take all of us to raise Owen the right way." Lydia licked her lips, "I want to honor Roberta's wishes. I want Owen to have the kind of family he deserves. Don't you want that for your son, Deucalion?"

There was a long beat of silence before Deucalion dragged in a breath. He wasn't quite sure that tossing in his lot with the Hale clan was the best thing but Lydia knew things she could never have known except for hearing it from Roberta herself. Lydia was a banshee, straddling the line between the living and the dead. "Was she in any pain?" His voice was so soft that he wasn't sure she'd hear.

"No," Lydia soothed. "There's no pain, no suffering…she just wants to cross over." She smiled softly. "In order to do that, this killer needs to die and to take her rightful place in the afterlife." Squeezing Deucalion's shoulder gently, she smiled, "If for no other reason, you can find comfort in knowing you helped grant her peace in Elysium."

That settled it. Deucalion squared his shoulders. "Then I accept…" He reached out and took Owen from Lydia. "You are still very weak."The least he could do was get Lydia the basic necessities. Opening up the door, he was unsurprised to see Peter standing there earnestly. "The least you can do make sure your mate rests. I will change Owen and get him ready for bed."

Peter nodded silently. He set about tidying up the room while she picked at a stray string on her sweater. "You're awfully quiet," Lydia peered at him. "Today must have been difficult for you."

"You scared the hell out of me!" His face turned ashen as he turned to her, "I thought you were dying. You were so cold and frail. Seeing you like that, I couldn't stand it, Lydia." He closed the distance between them, cradling her face in his hands. He realized that without Lydia, his life was gray and drab. She illuminated his soul. Without her calming hand, he would go back to his self-destructive ways and end up dead again or worse, the soulless beast he was before Lydia tamed him. "I can't let you go again." Lydia smiled at him so sweetly that he swelled with emotion.

Lydia stood on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to Peter's lips. "You won't have to…" She murmured against his ear. "Take me to bed." There was no hesitation in his movements. He swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed…their bed. Reaching for him, she kissed him softly. Cuddling into him, she closed her eyes. As he wrapped around her, Lydia found peace. Finding Claudia and taking her down would sap all of her strength…so for now, she had to absorb as much as she could from Peter. Within moments, Lydia's eyes fluttered closed and she slept peacefully once more.

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><p><strong>I am so sorry this chapter took so long. Muse is such a fickle friend! I hope that this extra long chapter makes you feel a little better. Please keep reviewing, your reviews are what gets me through these tough times. Twitter encouragement and Tumbr likesreblogs are super helpful too! I am writing this for all of you so please let me know what you think!**

**HUGE shoutout to my amazing beta JustVisiting80 who was a beast and got this to me lightning fast. She is the Bellarke master, seriously if you're a 100 fan (which I have no idea why you wouldn't be, it is AWESOME) her work is the bomb. And she's on the cusp of finish yet another amazing fanfic. Check her out!**

**Keep reading and reviewing if you want more!**

**Love,**

**Marina**


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